THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


vi  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 

published  for  a  still  longer  period,  Herr  Grimm 
allowed  me  to  undertake  the  translation  of  his 
work. 

As,  however,  with  such  a  man  as  Michael 
Angelo,  new  matter  is  ever  coming  to  light, 
and  hence  even  a  work  of  recent  date  may 
appear  stale  in  its  information,  I  applied  to 
Herr  Grimm,  on  the  issuing  of  this  new  edi- 
tion, to  furnish  me  with  any  fresh  particulars 
he  may  have  obtained.  I  received  in  reply  a 
letter,  from  which  I  will  make  the  following 
extract,  informing  me  of  all  that  has  trans- 
pired, respecting  Michael  Angelo,  up  to  this 
present  time:  — 

"  It  is  to  be  regretted,  that  the  papers  in  Florence, 
bequeathed  by  Count  Buonarotti  to  the  city,  are  still 
withheld.  The  report  is  constantly  circulated,  tha. 
they  are  soon  to  be  made  public ;  and  yet  this  seems 
never  to  be  thought  of  seriously.  The  reason  for 
this  delay  I  know  not ;  for  it  has  long  been  the 
general  opinion,  that  the  condition  under  which 
the  Count  bequeathed  the  papers  —  that  is,  ever- 
lasting secrecy  —  is  not  entirely  binding.  The  pres- 
ent proceeding,  therefore,  is  nothing  but  a  simple 
withholding  of  the  papers.  And  this  corresponds 
with  the  ways  and  habits  of  the  Italians  generally. 
There  is  a  tendency  constantly  manifested  by  them 
to  conceal  scientific  matter,  and  this  for  no  rational 


TRANSLATOR  S   PREFACE.  VII 

reason,  but  simply  for  the  sake  of  withholding 
things.  We  may  suppose,  however,  that  the  newly 
awakened  political  life  in  Italy  will  produce  the 
same  liberality  in  scientific  efforts  as  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  meet  with  in  Germany,  England,  and 
France. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  a  new  edition  has  appeared, 
in  Florence,  of  the  poems  of  Michael  Angelo ;  and 
for  this  the  Buonarotti  papers  were  made  use  of.  I 
gather  this  from  the  title  of  the  book  ;  but  I  have 
not  yet  received  it.  This  edition  will  be  of  real 
importance  if  it  throws  light  upon  the  date  of  the 
separate  poems.  The  uncertainty  that  has  prevailed, 
in  this  respect,  has  been  the  reason  why,  hitherto, 
Michael  Angelo's  poems  have  not  been  available  as 
historical  material. 

"  A  new  and  interesting  discovery  to  me  has  been 
a  bas-relief,  full  of  figures,  about  two  feet  high,  and 
one  and  a  half  broad ;  casts  of  which  I  found  in 
Basle  and  Berlin,  and  which  may  be  regarded  with 
tolerable  certainty  as  Michael  Angelo's  work.  I 
have  not  been  able  to  discover  the  original.  The 
subject  is  curious.  It  is  a  group  of  sick,  possibly 
dying,  people,  on  the  banks  of  a  stream,  which  is 
characterized  by  the  river-god  lying  on  it.  In  the 
air  above  hovers  a  Megaera-like  form  ;  the  personifi- 
cation, it  seems  to  me,  of  the  plague.  If  this  con- 
jecture be  right,  the  work  may  belong  to  that  sad 
period  in  Florence  during  which  we  know  so  little, 
comparatively,  of  Michael  Angelo. 

"It  must  also  be  interesting,  especially  to  thosu 
acquainted  with  Rome,  that  we  have  now  gained 


Vlll  TRANSLATOR  S  PREFACE. 

accurate  information  as  to  the  position  of  Michael 
Angelo's  house  in  that  city.  A  contract  has  come 
to  light,  by  which,  after  Michael  Angelo's  death, 
Leonardo  Buonarotti  let  his  uncle's  house  to  Daniele 
da  Volterra.  The  situation  is  accurately  described 
in  this  document.  The  house  stood  in  what  is  now 
Trajan's  Forum,  opposite  Santa  Maria  di  Loreto, 
and  probably  was  only  pulled  down  in  the  last  cen- 
tury, on  account  of  the  enlargement  of  the  square ; 
and,  owing  to  the  excavations  in  the  Forum,  we 
may  even  say  that  the  very  soil  has  disappeared  on 
which  the  house  stood.  Lastly,  some  original  re- 
ceipts by  Michael  Angelo's  hand,  bearing  the  dates 
1511  and  1513,  have  come  to  light.  They  refer  to 
the  paintings  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  to  the 
monument  of  Julius  II.  They  were  sent  for  my 
inspection  by  Major  Kiihlen  in  Rome,  who  has  them 
hi  his  possession." 

In  a  periodical  entitled,  "  On  Artists  and 
Works  of  Art,"  Herr  Grimm  has  published 
the  documents  referred  to  in  this  extract ;  and 
they  appear  to  me  too  interesting,  in  the  infor- 
mation they  afford,  to  be  omitted  here.  I  have 
therefore  added  them  to  the  appendix  of  the 
second  volume. 

F.  E.  BUNJNklT. 


CONTENTS    OF   VOLUME    1. 


CHAPTER    FIRST. 

PAOI 
Florence  and  Italy  —  The  Earliest  Ages  of  the  City  —  The 

Strife  of  Parties  —  Dante  — -  Cimabue  —  Giotto  —  The 
Medici  —  Ghiberti  —  Brunelleschi  —  Donatello  —  First 
Appearance  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci 1 

CHAPTER     SECOND. 

The  Great  Men  of  History  —  The  Sources  of  Michael  An- 
gelo's  Life  —  Vasari's  Connection  with  Condivi  —  The 
Italian  Historians  —  The  Florentine  and  London  Papers 
—  The  Buonarroti  Family  —  Birth  and  Early  Youth  of 
Michael  Angelo  —  Francesco  Granacci  —  The  Brothers 
Ghirlandajo  —  Lorenzo  dei  Medici  —  The  Conspiracy  of 
the  Pazzi  —  The  Gardens  of  the  Medici  —  Life  in  Flor- 
ence,  and  her  Artists 59 

CHAPTER    THIRD. 

1494—1496. 

Savonarola  —  Lorenzo's  Death  —  Change  of  Things  in  Flor- 
ence —  Irruption  of  the  French  into  Italy  —  Michael  An- 

gelo's  Flight  to  Venice  —  Expulsion  of  the  Medici  — 

fix] 


X  CONTENTS. 

FAGS. 

Michael  Angelo  in  Bologna  —  The  New  Republic  in  Flor- 
ence under  Savonarola  —  Michael  Angelo's  Retur*-  —  The 
Marble  Cupid — Journey  to  Rome 109 

CHAPTER    FOURTH. 

1496—1500. 

Arrival  hi  Rome  —  The  City  —  Alexander  Borgia  and  his 
Children  —  Pollajuolo  —  Melozzo  da  Forli  —  Mantegna  — 
Cardinal  Riario  —  The  Madonna  of  Mr-  Labouchere  — 
The  Bacchus  —  The  Pieta  —  State  of  things  in  Florence 
—  Savonarola's  Power  and  Ruin  —  Return  to  Florence  .  161 

CHAPTER    FIFTH. 

1498—1504. 

Louis  XII.,  King  of  France  —  Position  of  the  Florentines  in 
Italy  —  The  Madonna  at  Bruges  —  The  Madonna  in  the 
Tribune  at  Florence  —  Caesar  Borgia  before  Florence  — 
The  David  at  the  Gate  of  the  Palace  of  the  Govern- 
ment—  The  Twelve  Apostles  —  The  Copy  of  the  David 
of  Donatello  —  The  Erection  of  the  David  —  Leonardo 
da  Vinci  —  Perugino  —  Michael  Angelo's  Adversaries  — 
Death  of  Alexander  Borgia  —  Leonardo's  Cartoon  of  the 
Battle  of  the  Cavalry — Leonardo  contrasted  with  Michael 
Angelo  —  Cartoon  of  the  Bathing  Soldier  —  Raphael  in 
Florence 221 

CHAPTER    SIXTH. 

1505—1508. 

Julius  II.  —  Giuliano  di  San  Gallo  —  Call  to  Rome  —  Bni- 
mante  —  The  Pope's  Mausoleum  —  Remodelling  of  the 
Old  Basilica  of  St.  Peter  —  Journey  to  Carrara  —  The 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE. 
Pope's  Change  of  Mind  —  Flight  —  Julius's  Letter  to  the 

Signiory  of  Florence  —  Offer  on  the  Part  of  the  Sultan  — 
Return  to  Rome  as  Ambassador  of  the  Republic  —  Cam- 
paign of  the  Pope  against  Bologna  —  Capture  of  the  City 

—  Cartoon  of  the  Bathing  Soldiers  —  Leonardo's  Painting 
in  the  Hall  of  the  Consiglio  —  Call  to  Bologna  —  Statue  of 
the  Pope  —  Difficulties  in  making  the  Cast — Disorders  in 
Bologna  —  Erection  of  the  Statue  —  Francesco  Francia  — 
Albrecht  Diirer  in  Bologna  —  Return  to  Florence     .     .     .    263 

CHAPTER     SEVENTH. 

1508— 1509. 

Call  to  Rome  —  The  Painting  for  the  Ceiling  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel — Difficulties  of  the  Undertaking  —  Summoning  of 
the  Florentine  Artists  —  Impatience  of  the  Pope  —  Con- 
clusion of  the  First  Half  of  the  "Work — Raphael  in  Rome  311 

CHAPTER    EIGHTH. 
1510—1512. 

Raphael  compared  with  Michael  Angelo  —  Raphael's  Son 
nets  —  Raphael's  Portrait  of  his  Beloved  One  in  the  Bar- 
berini  Palace  —  Michael  Angelo 's  Poems  —  Continuation 
of  the  Paintings  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  —  Melancholy  State 
of  Mind  —  Letters  to  his  Brothers  and  Father  —  Journey 
to  the  Pope  at  Bologna  —  Siege  and  Fall  of  Mirandula — 
The  War  of  Julius  II.  for  Bologna  —  Loss  of  the  City 

—  Evil  Condition  and  Mind  of  the  Pope  —  Raphael's  Pic- 
tures in  the  Vatican  —  Cardinal  Giovanni  dei  Medici  as 
Legate  at  Bologna  —  March  against  the  City  —  Destruc- 
tion of  Julius's  Statue  —  Taking  of  Bologna  —  The  Me- 
dici with  the  Spanish  Army  before  Florence  —  Flight  of 
Soderiui  —  Restoration  of  the  Medici .    350 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    NINTH. 

1512—1518. 

PAOB 

Vain  Effort  for  Sebastian  del  Piombo — Julius's  last  Under- 
takings, and  Death  —  The  Mausoleum  —  New  Contract  — 
The  Moses  —  The  Dying  Youths — Destruction  of  the 
Cartoon  of  the  Bathing  Soldiers  —  Bandinelli  —  The  Me- 
dici at  the  Height  of  their  Power  —  Leo  X.  in  Florence 
— Faqade  of  San  Lorenzo — Works  in  Carrara  —  Call  to 
Rome  —  Undertaking  of  the  Facade  —  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
—  Sojourn  in  Rome  —  Raphael  —  Painting  in  the  Farne- 
eina — Sebastian  del  Piombo's  Scourging  of  Christ  in  San 
Pietro  in  Montorio,  and  the  Raising  of  Lazarus  ....  410 

APPENDIX «•••••••••.         515 


LIFE  OF  MICHAEL  AHGELO. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

Florence  and  Italy  —  The  Earliest  Ages  of  the  City  —  The  Strife  of 
Parties  —  Dante  —  Cimabue  —  Giotto  —  The  Medici  —  Ghiberti 
—  Brunelleschi  —  Donatello  —  First  Appearance  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci. 

rilHERE  are  names  which  carry  with  them  some- 
-•-  thing  of  a  charm.  We  utter  them,  and,  like 
the  prince  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  who  mounted 
the  marvellous  horse,  and  spoke  the  magic  words,  we 
feel  ourselves  lifted  from  the  earth  into  the  clouds. 
We  have  but  to  say  "  Athens ! "  and  all  the  great 
deeds  of  antiquity  break  upon  our  hearts  like  a 
sudden  gleam  of  sunshine.  We  perceive  nothing 
definite ;  we  see  no  separate  figures :  but  a  cloudy 
train  of  glorious  men  passes  over  the  heavens,  and  a 
breath  touches  us,  which,  like  the  first  warm  wind 
in  the  year,  seems  to  give  promise  of  the  spring  in 
the  midst  of  snow  and  rain.  "  Florence  !  "  and  the 
magnificence  and  passionate  agitation  of  Italy's 
prime  sends  forth  its  fragrance  towards  us  like 
blossom-laden  boughs,  from  whose  dusky  shadow 
we  catch  whispers  of  the  beautiful  tongue. 

We  will  now,  however,  step  nearer,  and  examine 
more  clearly  the  things  which,  taken  collectively  at 
a  glance,  we  call  the  history  of  Athens  and  Florence. 


2  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

The  glowing  images  now  grow  cold,  and  become 
dull  and  empty.  Here,  as  everywhere,  we  see  the 
strife  of  common  passions,  the  martyrdom  and 
ruin  of  the  best  citizens,  the  demon-like  opposition 
of  the  multitude  to  all  that  is  pure  and  elevated, 
and  the  energetic  disinterestedness  of  the  noblest 
patriots  suspiciously  misunderstood  and  arrogantly 
rejected.  Vexation,  sadness,  and  sorrow  steal  over 
us,  instead  of  the  admiration  which  at  first  moved 
us.  And  yet,  what  is  it  all  ?  Turning  away,  we 
cast  back  one  glance  from  afar ;  and  the  old  glory 
lies  again  on  the  picture,  and  a  light  in  the  distance 
seems  to  reveal  to  us  the  paradise  which  attracts  us 
afresh,  as  if  we  set  foot  on  it  for  the  first  time. 

Athens  was  the  first  city  of  Greece.  Rich,  power- 
ful, with  a  policy  which  extended  almost  over  the 
entire  world  of  that  age,  we  can  conceive  that 
from  here  emanated  all  the  great  things  that  were 
done.  Florence,  however,  in  her  fairest  days,  was 
never  the  first  city  of  Italy,  and  in  no  respect  pos- 
sessed extraordinary  advantages.  She  lies  not  on 
the  sea,  not  even  on  a  river  at  any  time  navigable ; 
for  the  Arno,  on  both  sides  of  which  the  city  rises, 
often  affords  in  summer  scarcely  water  sufficient  to 
cover  the  soil  of  its  broad  bed,  at  that  point  of  its 
course  where  it  emerges  from  narrow  valleys  into 
the  plain  situated  between  the  diverging  arms  of  the 
mountain  range.  The  situation  of  Naples  is  more 
beautiful,  that  of  Genoa  more  royal,  than  Florence ; 
Rome  is  richer  in  treasures  of  art ;  Venice  possessed 
a  political  power,  in  comparison  with  which  the 
influence  of  the  Florentines  appears  small.  Lastly, 


FLORENCE   AND   ITALY.  3 

these  cities  and  others,  such  as  Pisa  and  Milan,  have 
gone  through  an  external  history,  compared  with 
which  that  of  Florence  contains  nothing  extraordi- 
nary ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding,  all  that  happened 
in  Italy  between  1250  and  1530  is  colorless  when 
placed  side  by  side  with  the  history  of  this  one  city. 
Her  internal  life  surpasses  in  splendor  the  efforts 
of  the  others  at  home  and  abroad.  The  events, 
through  the  intricacies  of  which  she  worked  her 
way  with  vigorous  determination,  and  the  men  whom 
she  produced,  raise  her  fame  above  that  of  the  whole 
of  Italy,  and  place  Florence  as  a  younger  sister  by 
the  side  of  Athens. 

The  earlier  history  of  the  city,  before  the  days  of 
her  highest  splendor,  stands  in  the  same  relation  to 
the  subsequent  events  as  the  contests  of  the  Homeric 
heroes  to  that  which  happened  in  the  historic  ages 
in  Greece.  The  incessant  strife  between  the  hostile 
nobles,  which  lasted  for  centuries,  and  ended  with 
the  annihilation  of  all,  presents  to  us,  on  the  whole, 
as  well  as  in  detail,  the  course  of  an  epic  poem. 
These  contests,  in  which  the  whole  body  of  the  citi- 
zens became  involved,  began  with  the  strife  of  two 
families,  brought  about  by  a  woman,  with  murder 
and  revenge  in  its  train ;  and  it  is  ever  the  passion 
of  the  leaders  which  fans  the  dying  flames  into 
new  life.  From  their  ashes  at  length  arose  the  true 
Florence.  She  had  now  no  longer  a  warlike  aris- 
tocracy like  Venice ;  no  popes  nor  nobles  like  Rome ; 
no  fleet,  no  soldiers,  —  scarcely  a  territory.  Within 
her  walls  was  a  fickle,  avaricious,  ungrateful  people 
of  parvenus,  artisans,  and  merchants,  who  had  been 


4  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

subdued,  now  here  and  now  there,  by  the  energy 
or  the  intrigues  of  foreign  and  native  tyranny,  until, 
at  length  exhausted,  they  had  actually  given  up 
their  liberty.  And  it  is  the  history  of  these  very 
times  which  is  surrounded  with  such  glory,  and 
the  remembrance  of  which  awakens  such  enthu- 
siasm among  her  own  people,  at  the  present  day,  at 
the  remembrance  of  their  past. 

Whatever  attracts  us,  in  nature  and  in  art,  —  that 
higher  nature  which  man  has  created,  —  may  be  felt 
also  of  the  deeds  of  individuals  and  of  nations.  A 
melody,  incomprehensible  and  enticing,  is  breathed 
forth  from  the  events,  filling  them  with  importance 
and  animation.  Thus  we  should  like  to  live  and 
to  act,  —  to  have  joined  in  obtaining  this,  to  have 
assisted  in  the  contest  there.  It  becomes  evident  to 
us,  that  this  is  true  existence.  Events  follow  each 
other  like  a  work  of  art ;  a  marvellous  thread  unites 
them;  there  are  no  disjointed  convulsive  shocks, 
which  startle  us  as  at  the  fall  of  a  rock,  making  the 
ground  tremble,  which  for  centuries  had  lain  tran- 
quil, and  again,  perhaps  for  centuries,  sinks  back 
into  its  old  repose.  For  it  is  not  repose,  order,  and 
a  lawful  progress  on  the  smooth  path  of  peace, 
which  we  desire ;  nor  the  fearful  breaking-up  of 
long-established  habits,  and  the  chaos  that  succeeds : 
but  we  are  struck  by  deeds  and  characters  whose 
outset  promises  results,  and  allows  us  to  augur  an 
end  where  the  powers  of  men  and  nations  strive 
after  perfection,  and  our  feelings  aspire  towards  an 
harmonious  aim,  which  we  hope  for  or  dread,  and 
which  we  see  reached  at  length. 


FLORENCE   AND   ITALY.  5 

Our  pleasure  in  these  events  in  no  degree  resem- 
bles the  satisfaction  with  which,  perchance,  a  modern 
officer  of  police  would  express  himself  respecting 
the  excellent  condition  of  a  country.  There  are 
so-called  quiet  times,  within  which,  nevertheless,  the 
best  actions  appear  hollow,  and  inspire  a  secret 
mistrust ;  when  peace,  order,  and  impartial  admin- 
istration of  justice,  are  words  with  no  real  meaning, 
and  piety  sounds  even  like  blasphemy;  while,  in 
other  epochs,  open  depravity,  errors,  injustice,  crime, 
and  vice  form  only  the  shadows  of  a  great  and 
elevating  picture,  to  which  they  impart  the  just 
truth.  The  blacker  the  dark  places,  the  brighter 
the  light  ones.  An  indestructible  power  seems  to 
necessitate  both.  We  are  at  once  convinced  that  we 
are  not  deceived.  It  is  all  so  clear,  so  plain,  so 
intelligible.  We  are  struck  with  the  strife  of  inevi 
table,  dark  necessity  with  the  will,  whose  freedom 
nothing  can  conquer.  On  both  sides,  we  see  great 
powers  rising,  shaping  events,  and  perishing  in  their 
course,  or  maintaining  themselves  above  them.  We 
see  blood  flowing ;  the  rage  of  parties  flashes  before 
us  like  the  sheet-lightning  of  storms  that  have  long 
ceased ;  we  stand  here  and  there,  and  fight  once 
more  in  the  old  battles.  But  we  want  truth ;  no 
concealing  of  aims,  or  the  means  with  which  they 
desired  to  obtain  them.  Thus  we  see  the  people  in 
a  state  of  agitation,  just  as  the  lava  in  the  crater 
of  a  volcanic  mountain  rises  in  itself;  and,  from 
the  fermenting  mass,  there  sounds  forth  the  magic 
melody  which  we  call  to  mind  when  the  names 
"Athens"  or  "Florence"  are  pronounced. 


LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


2. 

Yet  how  poor  seem  the  treasures  of  the  Italian 
city,  compared  with  the  riches  of  the  Greek!  A 
succession  of  great  Athenians  appear,  where  only 
single  Florentines  could  be  pointed  out.  Athens 
surpassed  Florence  as  far  as  the  Greeks  surpassed 
the  Romans.  But  Florence  touches  us  the  more 
closely.  We  tread  less  certain  ground  in  the  his- 
tory of  Athens ;  and  the  city  herself  has  been  swept 
away  from  her  old  rocky  soil,  leaving  only  insignifi- 
cant ruins  behind.  Florence  still  lives.  If,  at  the 
present  day,  we  look  down  from  the  height  of  the  old 
Fiesole,  on  the  mountain-side  north  of  the  city,  the 
cathedral  of  Florence,  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  —  or 
Santa  Liparata,  as  it  is  called,  —  with  its  cupola  and 
slender  bell-tower,  and  the  churches,  palaces,  and 
houses,  and  the  walls  that  enclose  them,  still  lie  in 
the  depth  below,  as  they  did  in  years  gone  by.  All 
is  standing,  upright  and  undecayed.  The  city  is 
like  a  flower,  which,  when  fully  blown,  instead  of 
withering  on  its  stalk,  turned  as  it  were  into  stone. 
Thus  she  stands  at  the  present  day ;  and,  to  him 
who  forgets  the  former  ages,  life  and  fragrance  seem 
not  to  be  lacking.  Many  a  time  we  could  fancy  it  is 
still  as  once  it  was ;  just  as,  when  traversing  the 
canals  of  Venice  under  the  soft  beams  of  the  moon, 
we  are  delusively  carried  back  to  the  times  of  her 
ancient  splendor.  But  freedom  has  vanished ;  and 
that  succession  of  great  men  has  long  ceased,  which, 
year  by  year,  of  old,  sprung  up  afresh. 

Yet  the  remembrance  of  these  men,  and  01  the  old 


FLORENCE   AND   ITALY.  7 

freedom,  still  lives.  Their  remains  are  preserved 
with  religious  care.  To  live  with  consciousness  in 
Florence,  is,  to  a  cultivated  man,  nothing  else  than 
the  study  of  the  beauty  of  a  free  people,  in  its  very 
purest  instincts.  The  city  possesses  something  that 
penetrates  and  sways  the  mind.  We  lose  ourselves 
in  her  riches.  While  we  feel  that  every  thing  drew 
its  life  from  that  one  freedom,  the  Past  obtains  an 
influence,  even  in  its  most  insignificant  relations, 
which  almost  blinds  us  to  the  rest  of  Italy.  We 
become  fanatical  Florentines,  in  the  old  sense.  The 
most  beautiful  pictures  of  Titian  begin  to  be  indif- 
ferent to  us,  as  we  follow  the  progress  of  Florentine 
art,  in  its  almost  hourly  advance,  from  the  most 
clumsy  beginnings  up  to  perfection.  The  historians 
carry  us  into  the  intricacies  of  their  age,  as  if  we 
were  initiated  into  the  secrets  of  living  persons. 
We  walk  along  the  streets  where  they  walked ;  we 
step  over  the  thresholds  which  they  trod ;  we  look 
down  from  the  windows  at  which  they  have  stood. 
Florence  has  never  been  taken  by  assault,  nor  des- 
troyed, nor  changed  by  some  all-devastating  fire. 
The  buildings  of  which  they  tell  us  stand  there 
almost  as  if  they  had  grown  up,  stone  by  stone,  to 
charm  and  gratify  our  eyes.  If  I,  a  stranger,  am 
attracted  with  such  magnetic  power,  how  strong 
must  have  been  the  feeling  with  which  the  free  old 
citizens  clung  to  their  native  city,  which  was  the 
world  to  them!  It  seemed  to  them  impossible  to 
live  and  die  elsewhere.  Hence  the  tragic  and  often 
frantic  attempts  of  the  exiled  to  return  to  •  their 
home.  Unhappy  was  he  who  at  eventide  might 


8  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

not  meet  his  friends  in  her  squares,  —  who  was  not 
baptized  in  the  church  of  San  Giovanni,  and  could 
not  have  his  children  baptized  there.  It  is  the 
oldest  church  in  the  town,  and  bears  in  its  interior 
the  proud  inscription,  that  it  will  not  be  thrown 
down  until  the  day  of  judgment,  —  a  belief  as  strong 
as  that  of  the  Romans,  to  whom  eternity  was  to  be 
the  duration  of  their  Capitol.  Horace  sang  that  his 
songs  would  last  as  long  as  the  priestess  ascended 
the  steps  there. 

Athens  and  Florence  owed  their  greatness  to 
their  freedom.  We  are  free  when  our  longing  to  do 
all  that  we  do  for  the  good  of  our  country  is  satis- 
fied ;  but  it  must  be  independently  and  voluntarily. 
We  must  perceive  ourselves  to  be  a  part  of  a  whole ; 
and  that,  while  we  advance,  we  promote  the  advance 
of  the  whole  at  the  same  time.  This  feeling  must 
be  paramount  to  any  other.  With  the  Florentines. 
it  rose  above  the  bloodiest  hostility  of  parties  and 
families.  Passions  stooped  before  it.  The  city 
and  her  freedom  lay  nearest  to  every  heart,  and 
formed  the  end  and  aim  of  every  dispute.  No 
power  without  was  to  oppress  them ;  none  within 
the  city  herself  was  to  have  greater  authority  than 
another;  every  citizen  desired  to  co-operate  for  the 
general  good ;  no  third  party  was  to  come  betweer 
to  help  forward  their  interests.  So  long  as  thL 
jealousy  of  a  personal  right  in  the  State  ruled  in  thv 
minds  of  the  citizens,  Florence  was  a  free  city. 
With  the  extinguishing  of  this  passion,  freedom 
perislted ;  and  in  vain  was  every  energy  exerted  to 
maintain  it. 


FLORENCE  AND   ITALY.  9 

That  which,  however,  exhibits  Athens  and  Flor- 
ence as  raised  above  other  States,  which  likewise 
flourished  through  their  freedom,  is  a  second  gift 
of  nature,  by  which  freedom  was  either  circum- 
scribed or  extended,  —  for  both  may  be  said  of  it,  — 
namely,  the  capability  in  their  citizens  for  an  equal 
development  of  all  human  power.  One-sided  en- 
ergy may  do  much,  whether  men  or  nations  possess 
it.  Egyptians,  Romans,  Englishmen,  are  grand 
examples  of  this ;  the  one-sidedness  of  their  char- 
acter, however,  discovers  itself  again  in  their  under- 
takings, and  sometimes  robs  that  which  they  achieve 
of  the  praise  of  beauty.  In  Athens  and  Florence, 
no  passion  for  any  time  gained  such  ascendency 
over  the  individuality  of  the  people  as  to  prepon- 
derate over  others.  If  it  happened  at  times  for  a 
short  period,  a  speedy  subversion  of  things  brought 
back  the  equilibrium.  The  Florentine  Constitution 
depended  on  the  resolutions  of  the  moment,  made 
by  an  assembly  of  citizens  entitled  to  vote.  Any 
power  could  be  legally  annulled,  and  equally  legally 
another  could  be  raised  up  in  its  stead.  Nothing 
was  wanting  but  a  decree  of  the  great  parliament  of 
citizens.  A  counter-vote  was  all  that  was  neces- 
sary. So  long  as  the  great  bell  sounded  which 
called  all  the  citizens  together  to  the  square  in  front 
of  the  palace  of  the  Government,  any  revenge  borne 
by  one  towards  another  might  be  decided  by  open 
force  in  the  public  street.  Parliament  was  the  law- 
fully appointed  scene  of  revolution,  in  case  the  will 
of  the  people  no  longer  accorded  with  that  of  the 
Government.  The  citizens,  in  that  case,  invested  a 

i* 


10  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

committee  with  dictatorial  authority.  The  offices 
were  newly  filled.  All  offices  were  accessible  to  all 
citizens.  Any  man  was  qualified  and  called  upon 
for  any  position.  What  sort  of  men  must  these  citi- 
zens have  been,  who  formed  a  stable  and  flourishing 
state  with  institutions  so  variable  ?  Sordid  mer- 
chants and  manufacturers?  —  yet  how  they  fought 
for  their  freedom!  Selfish  policy  and  commerce 
their  sole  interest?  —  yet  were  they  the  poets  and 
historians  of  their  country !  Avaricious  shopkeep- 
•  ers  and  money-changers  ?  —  but  dwelling  in  princely 
palaces,  and  these  palaces  built  by  their  own 
masters,  and  adorned  with  paintings  and  sculptures, 
which  had  been  likewise  produced  within  the  city ! 
Every  thing  put  forth  blossom,  every  blossom  bore 
fruit.  The  fate  of  the  country  is  like  a  ball,  which, 
in  its  eternal  motion,  still  rests  ever  on  the  right 
point.  Every  Florentine  work  of  art  carries  the 
whole  of  Florence  within  it.  Dante's  poems  are  the 
result  of  the  wars,  the  negotiations,  the  religion, 
the  philosophy,  the  gossip,  the  faults,  the  vice,  the 
hatred,  the  love,  and  the  revenge  of  the  Florentines. 
All  unconsciously  assisted.  Nothing  might  be  lack- 
ing. From  such  a  soil  alone  could  such  a  work 
spring  forth.  From  the  Athenian  mind  alone  could 
the  tragedies  of  Sophocles  and  JEschylus  proceed. 
The  history  of  the  city  has  as  much  share  in  them 
as  the  genius  of  the  men  in  whose  minds  imagina- 
tion and  passion  sought  expression  in  words. 

It  makes  a  difference  whether  an  artist  is  the  self- 
conscious  citizen  of  a  free  land,  or  the  richly  re- 
warded subject  of  a  ruler  in  whose  ears  liberty 


FLORENCE   AND   ITALY.  11 

sounds  like  sedition  and  treason.  A  people  is  free, 
not  because  it  obeys  no  prince,  but  because  of  its 
own  accord  it  loves  and  supports  the  highest  author- 
ity, whether  this  be  a  prince  or  an  aristocracy  who 
hold  the  Government  in  their  hands.  A  prince 
there  always  is ;  in  the  freest  republics  one  man 
gives,  after  all,  the  casting  vote.  But  he  must  be 
there  because  he  is  the  first,  and  because  all  need 
him.  It  is  only  where  each  single  man  feels  hini- 
self  a  part  of  the  common  basis  upon  which  the 
commonwealth  rests,  that  we  can  speak  of  freedom 
and  art.  What  have  the  statues  in  the  villa  of 
Hadrian  to  do  with  Rome  and  the  desires  of  Rome  ? 
What  the  mighty  columns  of  the  baths  of  Caracalla 
with  the  ideal  of  the  people  in  whose  capital  they 
arose  ?  In  Athens  and  Florence,  however,  we  could 
say  that  no  stone  was  laid  on  another, — no  picture, 
no  poem,  came  forth ;  but  the  entire  population 
was  its  sponsor.  Whether  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore 
was  rebuilt;  whether  the  Church  of  San  Giovanni 
gained  a  couple  of  golden  gates ;  whether  Pisa  was 
besieged,  peace  concluded,  or  a  mad  carnival  pro- 
cession celebrated,  —  every  one  was  concerned  in  it, 
the  same  general  interest  was  evinced  in  it.  The 
beautiful  Simoneta,  the  most  beautiful  young  maid- 
en in  the  city,  is  buried ;  the  whole  of  Florence 
follows  her  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and  Lorenzo 
Medici,  the  first  man  in  the  State,  writes  an  elegiac 
sonnet  on  her  loss,  which  is  on  the  lips  of  all.  A 
newly  painted  chapel  is  opened ;  no  one  may  be 
missing.  A  foot-race  through  the  streets  is  ar- 
ranged; carpets  hang  out  from  every  window. 


12  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Contemplated  from  afar,  the  two  cities  stand  before 
us  like  beautiful  human  figures,  —  like  women  with 
dark,  sad  glances,  and  yet  laughing  lips ;  we  step 
nearer ;  it  seems  one  great  united  family :  we  pass 
into  the  midst  of  them ;  it  is  like  a  bee-hive  of 
human  beings.  Athens  and  her  destiny  is  a  symbol 
of  the  whole  life  of  Greece ;  Florence  is  a  symbol  of 
the  prime  of  Roman  Italy.  Both,  so  long  as  their 
liberty  lasted,  are  a  reflection  of  the  golden  age  of 
their  land  and  people  ;  after  liberty  was  lost,  they  are 
an  image  of  the  decline  of  both  until  their  final  ruin. 

3. 

Nothing  is  known  of  how  the  ancient  Florentia 
passed  into  the  modern  Fiorenza  or  Firenze,  and 
whether  it  brought  with  it  from  the  Romish  ages 
the  character  of  a  manufacturing  town.  We  do  not 
even  know,  in  the  Hohenstauffen  epoch,  in  what  pro- 
portion the  population  were  divided  into  noble  and 
manufacturing  classes.  The  city  at  that  time  lay 
on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Arno,  within  low  sur- 
rounding walls,  between  which  and  the  river  there 
was  a  broad  space.  In  that  direction  they  soon 
extended  themselves,  made  bridges  across,  and  es- 
tablished themselves  on  the  other  side. 

The  conquest  of  Fiesole  was  tTie  first  great  deed 
of  the  Florentine  citizens.  The  Fiesolans  were 
obliged  to  settle  in  the  valley  below.  Pisa,  never- 
theless, which  lay  towards  the  west,  on  the  sea-coast, 
was  greater  and  more  powerful.  Pisa  possessed  a 
fleet  and  harbors :  the  Florentine  trade  was  depen- 
dent on  that  of  Pisa.  Florence  had  nowhere  free 


THE   STRIFE   OF   PARTIES.  13 

communication  with  the  sea ;  Lucca,  Pistoia,  Arezzo, 
Siena,  —  nothing  but  jealous  and  warlike  cities,  — 
encircled  her  with  their  territories.  In  them,  how- 
ever, as  in  Florence,  there  were  houses  of  powerful 
nobles,  in  whose  hands  lay  the  sovereign  authority. 

The  disputes  of  these  lords  severally,  and  those  of 
the  parties  into  which  they  were  divided,  continued 
in  Tuscany  so  long  as  the  Hohenstauffens  ruled  the 
world.  Florence  belonged  to  the  heritage  of  the 
Countess  Matilda,  to  which  the  pope  laid  claim, 
because  the  land  had  been  bequeathed  to  him ;  and 
the  emperor,  because  an  imperial  fief  could  not  be  so 
disposed  of.  This  dispute  furnished  strong  points  of 
support  for  the  party  feeling  in  Tuscany.  A  part 
of  the  nobles  stood  up  for  the  rights  of  the  Church ; 
the  other,  to  defend  those  of  the  emperor.  The 
future  of  the  city  depended  on  the  issue  of  the  war, 
which  burst  forth  immediately  in  deeds  of  violence 
to  decide  the  exciting  question. 

When  the  imperial  party  were  victorious  in  Italy, 
their  adherents  in  Florence  triumphed  also ;  when 
the  national  party  gained  the  upper  hand,  the  party 
of  the  pope  conquered  in  Tuscany  also.  When  the 
Lombard  cities  were  subdued  by  Barbarossa,  the 
imperial  faction  in  Florence  broke  forth,  and  endeav- 
ored to  drive  away  the  public  magistrates,  who  had 
been  strengthened  by  their  adversaries.  When  the 
fortune  of  the  emperor  afterwards  suddenly  changed, 
the  power  of  his  enemies  in  Tuscany  also  returned. 
Under  the  protection  of  the  pope,  the  Tuscan  cities 
formed  themselves  into  a  confederation,  the  capital 
of  which  was  Florence. 


14  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  things  at  the  beginning 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  when  the  names^  Guelfs 
and  Ghibellines  sprang  up,  and  what  had  been  hith- 
erto a  spiritless  opposition  became  a  contest  with 
well-matured  principles.  In  the  year  1215,  the 
Guelfs  and  Ghibellines  in  Florence  began  to  make 
war  on  each  other.  In  the  year  1321,  Dante  died. 
The  century  between  the  two  dates  forms  the  con- 
tents of  his  poem,  the  verses  of  which  just  as  natu- 
rally suit  the  heroic  epoch  which  they  depict,  as  the 
pure  language  of  Homer  does  the  deeds  of  the  Hel- 
lenists before  flion. 

Registers  of  the  families,  as  they  stood  on  this 
side  or  on  that,  are  preserved.  We  know  the 
position  of  their  palaces,  —  little  castles,  constructed 
for  defence  from  storm  and  siege.  "We  follow,  from 
year  to  year,  the  calamitous  circumstances.  Old  and 
famous  houses  decline ;  new  ones  rise  from  small 
beginnings  to  power  and  importance.  Continually, 
in  the  midst  of  the  internal  discord,  wars  occur  with 
the  neighbors,  —  with  Pisa  first,  who  had  command 
over  the  way  to  the  sea ;  with  Siena  and  Pistoia ; 
soon  with  the  entire  neighborhood.  In  the  moment 
of  danger,  reconciliation,  armistice,  or  treaty  unite 
the  contending  parties  to  common  force  against  the 
enemies  of  the  country.  After  the  victory,  however, 
the  old  dispute  awakens  to  new  evil  within  their 
own  walls. 

For  the  most  part,  the  cause  for  the  state  of  things 
abroad  lay  in  those  at  home.  The  Guelfs  of  Flor- 
ence, when  they  had  the  management  of  things  in 
their  hands,  urged  for  war  against  the  Ghibellines 


THE   STRIFE   OP   PARTIES.  15 

of  Pisa  or  Pistoia.  The  Florentine  Ghibellines  re- 
fused to  take  the  field  with  them  against  their  own 
party.  Thus  Tuscany  stood  in  flames  which  were 
not  to  be  extinguished.  For,  if  one  party  succeeded 
in  driving  the  other  out  of  the  city,  the  banished 
ones  lay  without  in  their  castles,  close  at  the  very 
gates,  awaiting  the  favorable  moment  for  return. 
To  be  beaten  was  not  to  be  overcome.  In  the  wors( 
emergency,  supplies  and  money  came  from  afar. 
The  emperor  himself  sent  German  knights  to  the 
assistance  of  the  oppressed  Ghibellines. 

To  the  manufacturing  citizens,  however,  this  situ- 
ation of  the  great  nobles  was  of  essential  service. 
The  prosperous  merchants  formed  a  third  element, 
which  exerted  a  powerful  influence  in  the  contests 
of  the  nobles,  and  forced  them  to  concessions.  The 
city  authorities  grew  strong:  in  the  midst  of  the 
calamitous  disorders,  Florence  increased  in  exten 
and  population.  In  the  year  1252,  Pisa  was  already 
not  half  so  important.  A  commercial  treaty  with 
the  Pisans  was  concluded ;  they  adopted  the  Floren- 
tine weights  and  measures.  It  was  about  this  time 
that  Manfred,  the  last  Hohenstauffen  king  of  Naples, 
supported  the  Ghibellines  alone  in  Tuscany.  When, 
for  the  last  time,  he  sent  assistance,  his  eight  hun- 
dred knights  —  for  the  most  part  Germans  —  united 
with  the  Ghibellines  of  Florence,  Siena,  Pisa,  Prato, 
Arezzo,  and  Pistoia,  formed  a  body  of  three  thou- 
sand armed  men. 

The  Guelfs  were  defeated,  and  evacuated  the 
land.  Soon,  however,  after  the  fall  of  Manfred,  they 
again  attacked  Florence,  which  was  now  abandoned 


16  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

by  the  Ghibellines.  Charles  of  Anjou,  the  new 
French  king  of  Naples,  undertook  the  protection  of 
the  city,  and  the  citizens  adopted  a  new  constitution, 
the  foundation  of  their  subsequent  independence. 
Whether  the  nobles  concluded  a  peace  or  entered 
into  dispute  afresh,  it  was  always  a  signal  to  the  citi- 
zens to  make  a  new  attempt  to  extend  their  rights. 

To  make  their  rights,  however,  a  still  surer  pos- 
session, they  endeavored  to  destroy  and  to  purchase 
the  castles  of  the  nobles  outside  the  town,  and  to 
drive  them  back  by  the  prohibition  of  a  wide  circuit 
of  the  city.  In  Florence  herself,  the  dangerous 
towers  were  pulled  down  which  had  once  been  their 
watch -posts,  and  from  whence  they  had  hurled 
their  darts.  Too  late  the  great  nobles  perceived  the 
consequences  of  their  furious  self-destruction.  The 
Ghibellines  were  crushed ;  but  the  victorious  Guelfic 
nobility  stood  enfeebled  before  a  body  of  proud  citi- 
zens, whose  rich  families  maintained  themselves  as 
bravely  as  the  nobles.  New  constitutions  gave 
greater  and  greater  scope  to  the  guilds,  which  were 
beginning  to  form ;  and  at  length  the  intention  of 
admitting  those  alone  to  a  share  in  the  State  who 
were  members  of  these  guilds  stood  forth  as  the  aim 
of  this  powerful  democracy.  The  old  nobility  were 
obliged  to  allow  themselves  to  be  admitted,  or  to  be 
completely  excluded. 

All  this,  however,  proceeded  slowly ;  great  com- 
motions were  brought  about  step  by  step.  There 
were  epochs  of  rest,  —  happier  times,  in  which  the 
parties  joined  for  peaceful  social  life.  Such  a  calm 
occured  in  the  last  decade  of  the  thirteenth  century, 


DANTE.  17 

when,  with  the  decline  of  the  Hohenstauffens,  the 
idea  of  the  old  empire  began  to  dissolve,  and  the  new 
basis  of  European  political  life  filled  all  minds  :  the 
divided  people  were  now  from  henceforth  to  follow 
their  own  way.  The  jurisdiction  of  the  old  Roman- 
Byzantine  power  was  then  for  the  first  time  broken 
through.  National  consciousness  penetrated  art  and 
literature,  and  revealed  itself  in  new  forms.  These 
are  the  times  in  which  occurred  Dante's  birth  and 
youth. 

Florence  extended  her  walls  for  the  third  time. 
Arnolfo  di  Lapo,  the  famous  architect,  began  to  build 
the  churches  which  yet  stand  there  as  the  greatest 
and  finest,  and  among  them,  most  distinguished  of 
all,  Santa  Maria  del  Piore.  He  built  in  a  new  style,  — 
the  Gothic,  or,  as  the  Italians  called  it,  the  German, 
—  the  free  upward-rising  proportions  of  which  took 
the  place  of  the  more  heavy  and  wide-spreading 
dimensions  in  which  they  had  built  hitherto.  As 
the  rule  of  the  Hohenstauffens  may  be  regarded  as 
the  final  development  of  the  old  Roman  Empire,  so 
art  also  appears  up  to  their  times  as  the  last  fruit  of 
the  ideas  of  the  ancients. 

Dante  speaks  of  the  days  of  his  youth  as  of  his  lost 
paradise.  But  he  was  not  a  poet  who,  absorbed  in 
narrow  fancies,  had  led  a  secluded  life.  He  was  a 
soldier,  statesman,  and  scholar.  He  fought  in  bat- 
tle, took  part  in  important  embassies,  and  wrote 
learned  and  political  works.  In  his  youth  a  Guelf, 
he  became  a  furious  Ghibelline,  and  wrote  and  sang 
for  his  party,  which  even  still  built  extravagantly 
ideal  hopes  on  the  advent  of  a  German  emperor. 


18  LIFE    OP   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

Henry  of  Luxemburg  appeared  in  the  year  1311. 
But  to  him  the  old  party  names  had  lost  their  mean- 
ing. He  saw  that  Guelfs  and  Ghibellines  alike 
wished  to  use  him  for  their  own  ends ;  and,  pursuing 
likewise  the  path  which  seemed  to  him  the  most 
advantageous  for  his  own  policy,  he  adhered  to  a 
middle  course,  which  led  him  victoriously  on,  with- 
out giving  the  advantage  to  either  of  the  contending 
parties.  Death  soon  put  an  end  to  his  efforts  ;  and, 
after  he  was  gone,  scarcely  a  trace  of  his  existence 
remained  behind  in  the  land. 

His  progress  through  Italy  was  described  by  Dino 
Compagni,  a  Florentine  and  friend  of  Dante.  The 
chronicle  of  this  man,  in  its  simple  and  beautiful 
prose,  forms  a  counterpart  to  Dante's  poems.  The 
symphony  of  two  worlds  —  the  ancient  and  the  mod- 
ern—  fills  both  their  works.  They  use  the  lan- 
guage naturally,  as  the  best  old  authors  did  theirs, 
and  without  abusing  its  flexibility.  Dante  speaks  of 
things  and  feelings  plainly,  as  he  sees  them  and 
experiences  them.  When  he  describes  the  heaven, 
and  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  stars,  it  is  the 
heaven  of  Hesiod ;  if  he  takes  us  to  the  sea-shore,  it 
seems  to  be  the  same  shore  as  that  on  which  Thetis 
lamented  her  lost  son,  or  on  which  the  waves  had 
rolled  at  the  feet  of  Ulysses,  when  he  looked  out 
from  the  Island  of  Calypso,  and  the  sweeping  clouds 
reminded  him  of  the  rising  smoke  of  his  home.  Dante 
ingenuously  compares  the  scarcely  opened,  light- 
dreading  eyes  of  the  wandering  band  of  spectres  in 
the  lower  world  with  the  screwed-up  eyes  of  a  tailor 
who  wants  to  thread  his  needle. 


DANTE CIM  ABUE GIOTTO .  1 9 

His  poem  is  the  fruit  of  laborious  study  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Italian  language.  He  must  have  toiled 
to  catch  and  to  manage  its  words,  like  a  troop  of 
wild  horses  which  had  never  gone  in  harness  before. 
His  proud,  weighty  Italian  is  a  strange  contrast  to 
the  polished  conventional  Latin,  in  which  he  wrote 
more  easily.  In  the  latter,  he  is  keen,  cultivated, 
and  elegant;  while  his  Italian  compositions  sound 
as  if  he  had  written  them  half  dreaming.  In  his 
light  verses  there  lies  something  of  the  melancholy 
to  which  the  sight  of  nature  often  disposes  us,  of 
that  aimless  sadness  which  a  cool,  glowing  sunset  in 
autumn  calls  forth  in  us.  Dante's  fate  stands  before 
us  like  the  suffering  of  an  exiled  Hellenist,  who 
enjoys  hospitality  at  the  court  of  a  barbarian  prince, 
whilst  hatred  and  longing  gnaw  his  heart.  At  times 
we  see  more  than  we  have,  perhaps,  a  right  to  see : 
while  contemplating  Dante's  head,  as  Giotto  has 
painted  it,  with  a  few  wonderful  strokes,  on  the  wall 
of  the  chapel  of  Bargello,  his  whole  life  seems  to 
lie  in  the  soft,  beautiful  features,  as  if  a  presentiment 
of  his  future  overshadowed  his  youthful  brow. 

Dante  died  in  exile ;  none  of  his  political  ideas 
were  realized.  The  nations  were  too  deeply  in- 
volved in  their  own  disorder,  to  have  power  and 
enthusiasm  left  for  general  European  policy.  The 
popes  removed  to  Avignon.  Rome  stood  empty. 
Etaly  was  left  to  itself.  The  hundred  years  during 
which  this  state  of  things  lasted  are  the  second 
epoch  in  the  development  of  Florentine  liberty,  and 
form  at  the  same  time  the  first  era  of  that  unfolding 
•n't  which  finds  its  first  great  workman  in  Giotto. 


20  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

4. 

Wo  are  wont  to  call  Cimabue  the  founder  of 
modern  painting.  His  productions  belong  to  the; 
time  in  which  Dante  was  born.  His  works  excited 
astonishment  and  admiration.  Cimabue  painted,  in 
the  manner  of  the  Byzantine  masters,  stiff,  bulky 
Madonnas.  We  would  gladly,  at  the  present  day. 
consider  this  influence  of  Byzantine  art  upon  the 
early  Italian  to  have  been  of  the  most  limited  .char- 
acter, and  assert  rather  a  native  development  IP 
direct  connection  with  ancient  art.  It  may  havo 
been  so  with  Cimabue ;  but  Giotto,  whom  he  me* 
with  on  the  open  field,  as  a  shepherd-boy,  drawing 
his  cattle  on  the  large  flat  stones,  —  whom  he  de- 
manded from  his  father,  and  took  with  him  to 
Florence,  and  instructed,  —  can  nevertheless  be, 
scarcely  designated  his  disciple.  From  Cimabue  to 
Giotto  there  is  a  steep  ascent.  Giotto  seems  alien 
to  his  master,  and  almost  opposed  to  him. 

At  the  period  in  which  he  worked,  the  intellectual 
centre  of  Europe  was  not  in  Italy.  Dante,  who  had 
pursued  his  studies  in  Paris,  freed  himself  with 
difficulty  from  the  power  of  the  Latin  tongue  and 
the  Provencal  dialect.  It  was  from  France  that  the 
new  Gothic  style  came  into  Italy.  It  was  in  France 
also  that  Giotto  painted.  His  tender  figures,  which 
seem  to  spring  from  the  most  simple  examination  of 
nature,  still  carry  with  them  too  much  of  miniature- 
painting  for  us  entirely  to  deny  the  school  in  which 
their  master  learned  to  draw. 

It  is  not  easy  to  gain  a  clear  idea  of  his  work.     It 


DANTE  —  CIMABUE  —  GIOTTO.  21 

embraced  the  whole  range  of  art.  Much  of  techni- 
cal rule  must  have  interfered  with  it.  Yet  he  was 
not  devoid  of  individual  power.  Dante's  portrait, 
now  indeed  Giotto's  most  famous  work,  retains, 
even  in  its  present  sad  condition,  something  grand 
and  characteristic  in  the  sweep  of  the  lines.  The 
sketch  seems  to  have  been  produced  by  a  strong 
hand,  which  traced  with  bold  strokes  what  the  eye 
saw  and  the  mind  perceived.  No  artist  would  have 
been  able  to  draw  with  more  meaning  the  rare  out- 
line of  such  a  countenance,  which,  although  des- 
troyed, restored,  and  partly  entirely  renovated,  is 
imbued  with  the  elevating  dignity  of  him  to  whom 
it  belonged.  The  Madonnas  which  are  ascribed  to 
Giotto  have  an  expression  of  sad  loveliness.  Heavy, 
almond-shaped  eyes,  scarcely  open,  a  repetition  of 
the  Byzantine  type  of  Madonnas,  a  sorrowfully  smil- 
ing mouth,  —  these  are  their  distinctive  features. 
His  principal  works  were  not,  however,  his  pictures 
•with  a  few  insignificant  figures,  but  his  fresco-paint- 
ings, with  which  he  supplied  the  whole  of  Italy. 
Called  by  the  King  of  Naples  to  his  capital,  he 
painted  the  churches  and  palaces  there ;  he  execu- 
ted great  works  in  Lombardy ;  he  was  summoned  to 
Rome  and  Avignon  by  the  popes.  Wherever  he 
was  required,  he  was  at  once  ready  for  service.  He 
worked  as  painter,  sculptor,  and  architect.  He  stood 
on  good  terms  with  the  nobles,  but  showed  them 
little  deference.  His  personal  characteristics,  as 
depicted  by  Boccaccio,  are  not  over-idealized.  Giotto 
was  small,  mean-looking  even  to  ugliness,  good-na- 
tured, but  endowed  with  a  sharp  tongue,  like  all 


22  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Florentines.  Dante  also  could  give  biting  replies. 
Villain,  his  contemporary,  tells  us  that  he  knew 
how  to  cut  short  with  severity  all  stupidity  and 
pretension ;  while,  from  the  impression  left  by  his 
verses  and  his  sad  fate,  we  should  have  thought  he 
would  have  turned  away  in  stately  silence  when 
natures  so  far  below  him  put  his  pride  to  the  test. 

Dante  and  Giotto  remained  friends  to  the  end  of 
their  lives.  When  Giotto  came  through  Ferrara  on 
his  return  from  Verona,  and  Dante  heard  in  Ra- 
venna that  he  was  so  near  him,  he  succeeded  hi 
having  him  called  to  Ravenna.  The  paintings,  how- 
ever, which  he  executed  in  the  cathedral  there,  have 
perished. 

Fate  was  not  favorable  to  his  works.  In  Dante's 
portrait,  a  nail  has  been  driven  exactly  into  the  eye. 
Even  in  the  past  century,  church  walls  in  Naples, 
which  had  been  painted  by  Giotto,  were  white- 
washed. A  Florentine  picture,  on  which  Vasari 
bestows  the  highest  praise,  was  lost  from  the  church  • 
to  which  it  belonged,  during  the  period  that  inter- 
vened between  the  first  and  second  editions  of  his 
book.  It  represented  the  death  of  Mary,  with  the 
apostles  standing  round,  while  Christ  receives  the 
rising  spirit  in  his  arms.  Michael  Angelo  is  said  to 
have  specially  liked  it.  It  has  never  again  come 
to  light. 

The  most  famous  monument,  however,  which  this 
master  has  erected  to  himself,  is  the  bell-tower, 
which  rises  by  the  side  of  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  — 
a  slender,  isolated  column  of  colossal  height,  quad- 
rangular, and  from  top  to  bottom  inlaid  with  marble. 


5536      II  Tampa 


GIOTTO.  23 

As  Arnolfo  never  lived  to  see  the  conclusion  of  his 
vast  cathedral  structure,  which  even  a  century  and 
a  half  after  his  death  lacked  completion,  so  was 
Giotto  never  permitted  to  finish  his  wonderful  tower. 
Like  Arnolfo,  he  left  behind  a  model  which  they 
could  follow;  only  that,  at  the  close  of  the  work, 
they  discontinued  the  Gothic  pyramidal  spire,  be- 
cause the  building  was  finished  at  a  period  when  the 
German  style  had  been  long  given  up,  and  had  fallen 
into  contempt. 

As  the  church,  next  which  it  stands,  was  to  exceed 
in  magnitude  any  that  had  been  ever  built  before, 
Giotto  received  instructions  to  erect  a  tower,  which 
should  surpass  all  that  Greek  and  Roman  art  had 
produced.  The  outside,  formed  of  slates  of  black 
and  white  marble,  is  covered  with  the  most  beautiful 
ornaments  and  sculpture,  which  are  continued  in 
marvellous  abundance  to  the  very  top.  The  con- 
struction of  the  different  stories,  the  windows,  the 
sculpture,  —  wherever  the  eye  rests  with  attentive 
observation,  —  all  form  a  matchless  whole.  Giotto 
deserved  the  honor  and  the  remuneration  which  he 
obtained  for  it.  The  freedom  of  the  city,  which 
he  received,  was  at  that  time  a  great  matter ;  and 
the  yearly  allowance  of  a  hundred  gold  florins  was 
no  trifling  sum. 

He  died  in  133G.  To  the  end  of  the  century,  his 
style  remained  the  model  for  Florentine  art.  The 
works  of  his  pupils  and  imitators  present  nothing 
that  surpasses  him.  The  age  was  unproductive  ;  for 
no  higher  power  asserted  itself  in  Italy  than  gloomy, 
contentious  selfishness.  The  land  was  the  theatre 


24  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

of  endless  disputes,  the  intricate  nature  of  winch 
acquired  no  nobler  importance  by  the  presence  of 
distinguished  men. 

5. 

In  the  north,  the  Visconti  had  established  them- 
selves as  the  lords  of  Milan,  and  the  emperor  Henry 
had  confirmed  them  as  such.  Through  them  the 
Ghibelline  north  of  Italy  remained  in  connection 
with  the  emperor  and  with  Germany.  Their  best 
soldiers  were  German  knights  and  fighting-men. 

Towards  the  east,  Venice  was  too  strong  for  the 
Visconti ;  they  turned  therefore  to  the  south,  and 
brought  Genoa  into  their  power  ;  by  this,  the  whole 
Tuscan  coast,  Lucca  and  Pisa,  once  the  aim  of 
Genoese  desires,  became  the  object  of  the  efforts 
of  Lombardy.  This,  however,  brought  Milan  into 
contact  with  Florence,  to  whom  the  possession  of 
both  cities  was  necessary.  Besides  this,  there  was 
the  opposition  of  political  feeling :  Milan,  the  central 
point  of  the  German-imperial  Ghibelline  nobility  in 
Italy ;  Florence,  the  nest  of  the  popish-national 
citizens,  in  closest  alliance  with  the  French  Naples, 
and  with  France  itself,  whose  kings  hoped  to  seize 
upon  the  Roman  imperial  dignity.  Tuscany  lay 
between  the  north  and  the  south,  as  the  natural 
theatre  for  the  meeting  of  the  hostile  powers. 

Florence  was  a  manufacturing  city,  inhabited  by 
restless  masses.  It  was  soon  evident  that  a  strong, 
independent  power  must  defend  the  city  without. 
None  of  her  own  citizens  had  or  might  have  the 
ability  to  do  this:  we  find  Florence,  therefore,  in 


CIVIL   DISCORD.  25 

the  hands  of  powerful  princes,  for  the  most  part 
Neapolitan,  who  for  weighty  gold  gave  their  services 
and  their  troops.  The  idea -indeed  occurred  to  them 
of  constituting  themselves  her  settled  masters.  Then, 
however,  the  power  of  the  citizens  displayed  itself,  — 
they  would  submit  to  no  other  yoke  than  that  which 
they  had  voluntarily  taken  upon  them.  Florence 
maintained  herself  free  by  her  democracy,  as  Venice 
did  by  her  nobles. 

The  other  cities  of  Italy  became  subject,  on  ac- 
count of  their  divisions,  to  separate  families  or  to 
foreign  rule.  In  such  cases,  things  took  their  natu- 
ral course.  Two  parties  of  nobles  made  war  on  each 
other,  each  with  one  family  as  head,  which  was  the 
most  powerful  within  their  circle.  If  one  of  the 
parties  conquered,  those  who  had  been  its  leaders 
endeavored  to  maintain  themselves  as  masters  at 
the  head  of  the  entire  state.  Relationship,  murder, 
and  the  inheritance  thus  brought  about,  alliances 
with  foreign  houses  who  aimed  at  similar  measures 
or  had  already  carried  them  out,  strengthened  the 
new  position.  To  convert  this  authority  expressly 
into  an  hereditary  one  was  scarcely  necessary,  as 
from  the  outset  it  concerned  the  whole  family,  whose 
duration  was  not  interrupted  by  the  death  of  its 
heads. 

In  Florence,  from  the  earliest  times,  such  outrages 
on  the  people's  love  of  liberty  had  been  frustrated, 
even  in  those  days  when  there  was  still  a  nobility 
within  the  city.  The  victorious  party  perceived  that 
the  aim  in  view  was  not  merely  the  subjection  of 
their  adversaries,  but  the  elevation  of  their  own 


26  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

chief  to  authority ;  so  they  refused  to  render  service. 
All  hostility  vanished  at  such  moments.  The  ex- 
pulsion of  the  Duke  of  Athens,  who  in  1343  had 
been  appointed  lord  of  the  city,  and  who  thought  it 
easy  to  bring  her  under  his  dominion,  is  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  deeds  of  the  Florentines.  Misled  by 
the  hostility  of  parties,  he  believed  he  could  maintain 
his  high  position  with  the  help  of  the  aristocrats. 
But  he  did  so  only  for  a  short  time.  An  insurrec- 
tion broke  out,  in  which  every  one,  without  dis- 
tinction of  party,  took  part ;  and  the  duke  fled  before 
the  excited  people,  whom  he  dared  not  defy. 

It  was  in  that  same  year  that  the  last  fearful  con- 
test against  the  nobles  was  fought,  when,  immedi- 
ately after  the  expulsion  of  the  duke,  they  again 
opposed  the  people.  Their  number  was  no  longer 
large :  they  were  annihilated ;  but  they  sold  their 
ruin  dearly  enough.  A  great  contest  arose  in  the 
streets  ;  the  people  took  by  force  the  palaces  of 
the  nobles.  Wondrously  does  Machiavelli  depict  the 
rage  of  the  citizens,  and  the  desperate  resistance  of 
the  lords,  as  one  family  after  another  fell ;  and,  when 
the  guilds  had  conquered,  they  began  to  divide 
among  themselves  for  renewed  contests.  The  high- 
er guilds  were  now  the  "  lords,"  the  oppressors, 
against  whom  the  lower  guilds,  "  the  people,"  took 
up  arms.  Again,  there  were  powerful  old  families 
who  formed  the  party  of  the  nobles ;  while  others, 
striving  to  rise,  excited  to  rebellion  the  impatient 
desires  of  the  lower  classes. 

It  was  from  these  revolutions  that  the  Medici  at 
length  emerged.  They  began  to  rise  towards  the 


THE   MEDICI.  27 

end  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Their  progress  was 
natural,  and  therefore  not  to  be  stopped.  It  was 
the  result  of  the  co-operation  of  two  unconquerable 
powers,  —  the  peculiarities  of  the  Florentine  people, 
and  their  own  family  character ;  and  a  power  was 
thus  formed  which  can  be  compared  with  that  of  no 
other  princes. 

The  Medici  were  princes,  and  yet  private  people. 
They  ruled  with  absolute  sway,  while  seeming  never 
to  give  a  command.  They  might  be  called  heredi- 
tary advisers  of  the  Florentine  people  ;  the  hereditary 
Florentine  guardians ;  possessors,  interpreters,  and 
executors  of  public  opinion. 

The  wealth  of  the  family  was  only  the  outward 
instrument  with  which  they  worked ;  the  true  im- 
pelling power  which  allowed  them  to  rise,  lay  in  the 
talent  for  gaining  confidence  without  demanding  it, 
in  the  will  to  enforce  without  commanding,  and  to 
conquer  their  enemies  without  attacking  them. 
Their  successes  alone  came  to  light,  rarely  the  ways 
in  which  they  attained  them.  They  spared  no  means 
in  doing  so.  In  a  written  apology,  in  which  the 
character  of  the  first  Cosmo  is  passionately,  or  rather 
furiously,  defended,  we  read,  in  praise  of  this  father 
of  his  country,  that  he  poisoned  the  Roman  empe- 
ror to  save  Italy  from  his  inroads.  Treachery  and 
violence  were  familiar  to  the  Medici,  as  to  every 
other  princely  family  of  their  time ;  but  that  which 
distinguished  them  from  others  was  the  national, 
genuine  Florentine  manner  in  which  they  knew  how 
to  use  them.  They  were  more  refined  than  the  most 
refined  in  Florence,  more  pliable  than  the  craftiest  • 


28  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

they  seized  their  foes  with  unerring  accuracy,  for  they 
understood  how,  with  masterly  power,  to  lull  them 
into  the  feeling  of  security  that  led  to  their  capture. 
Composure  in  moments  of  greatest  difficulty  was  of 
more  service  to  them  than  the  valor  which  was  never 
lacking.  Linked  with  both,  however,  a  marvellous 
success  went  hand  in  hand ;  and  that  which  cast  a 
true  halo  round  them  was  the  direction  of  their 
mind  to  objects  of  higher  culture,  —  their  delight 
in  the  beautiful,  and  the  noble  manner  in  which 
they  befriended  those  who  were  the  first  in  art  and 
science.  Their  merits,  and  again  their  successes,  — 
for  fate  richly  favored  their  noble  inclinations,  —  are, 
in  this  direction,  so  vast,  that,  as  a  lesson  to  the 
whole  world,  the  genius  of  history -has  beautifully 
taken  care  that  the  Medici  should  stand  alone  as  the 
protectors  of  art  and  science. 

The  first  Medici,  whose  fate  was  thoroughly  mixed 
up  with  the  destinies  of  the  city,  was  Salvestro, 
Gonfalonier  of  Florence  in  the  year  1370.  The  Gon- 
falonier, the  supreme  magistrate,  was  one  year  in 
office.  The  title  may  be  simply  and  generally  trans- 
lated as  that  of  the  ruling  mayor ;  in  its  derivation 
it  signifies  standard-bearer ;  the  Gonfalonier  carried 
the  banner  of  justice  as  an  emblem  of  the  highest 
authority  which  lay  in  his  hands. 

Salvestro,  who  was  a  leader  of  the  democratic 
party,  plunged  the  citizens  into  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  revolutions.  Without  openly  compromis- 
ing himself,  he  stirred  up  the  people  until  sedition 
broke  out.  In  the  midst  of  the  commotion,  he  stood 
forth  as  a  loyal  man  apart  from  all  the  dispute,  and 


THE   MEDICI.  29 

manifested  in  his  manoeuvres  that  spirit  of  cunning 
and  energy,  which,  in  subsequent  times,  made  his 
family  so  victorious,  when  they  possessed  power  and 
boldness  to  use  it  unscrupulously. 

The  aim  of  the  democratic  party,  at  whose  head 
the  Medici  placed  themselves,  was  to  oppose  those 
families  who  had,  from  their  common  wealth,  as- 
sumed the  position  of  the  ruling  minority  within  the 
pure  constitution.  The  Medici  did  not  occupy  the 
rank  among  them  which  they  wished  to  occupy. 
Their  family  was  not  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
or  the  most  ancient.  Instead,  however,  of  forming 
a  party  among  those  aristocrats  with  whom  they 
wished  to  be  on  an  equality,  by  the  help  of  which 
they  would  have  perhaps  brought  the  great  families 
and  the  entire  people  into  subjection,  they  made  the 
cause  of  the  people  their  own ;  united  with  them, 
they  annihilated  the  nobles,  and  entered  upon  their 
inheritance. 

Much  as  the  course  they  had  adopted,  and  the 
expedient  they  made  use  of,  tended  to  make  the  final 
result  appear  but  as  the  successful  execution  of  cold- 
ly planned  intrigues,  it  required  the  greatest  vigor 
to  come  off  victorious.  Moments  of  the  greatest 
danger  occurred,  in  which  the  Medici  behaved  with 
princely  tact.  The  rise  of  these  royal  citizens  con- 
sisted of  a  train  of  political  events,  which  became 
increasingly  comprehensive.  Truth,  however,  turned 
the  scale  at  last,  and  generosity  and  magnanimity 
triumphed  over  secret,  calculating  cunning.  The 
Medici  prevailed,  not  merely  because  they  possessed 
the  evil  qualities  of  their  fellow-citizens  in  their 


30  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

greatest  vigor,  but  also  because  in  them  might  be 
perceived,  more  strongly  than  in  any  others,  the 
counterbalancing  excellences  of  the  national  Floren- 
tine character.  The  evil  is  everywhere  more  plainly 
recognized,  because,  in  single  instances,  it  is  conspic- 
uously evident;  while  the  good,  regarded  from  a 
more  general  point  of  view,  is  dimly  perceived,  and, 
taken  as  a  matter  of  course,  is  scarcely  acknowledged 
as  an  advantage.  For  this  reason,  in  Salvestro's 
case,  there  is  less  evident  weight  given  to  the  fact, 
that  the  cause  which  he  served  was  good  and  just  in 
itself.  We  fancy  we  perceive,  to  too  great  an  extent, 
that  he  only  availed  himself  of  it  for  personal  ends. 
He  came  forth  from  the  storms  which  he  had  stirred 
up,  with  the  fame  of  a  democrat  whom'  the  people 
loved ;  at  the  same  time  he  remained  the  man -whom 
the  nobles  could  not  dispense  with.  He  died  in 
1388.  After  his  death,  Veri  dei  Medici  became  the 
head  of  the  family.  The  disputes  among  the  higher 
and  lower  guilds  for  a  share  in  the  Government  still 
continued.  There  was  no  end  to  the  insurrections. 
They  murdered;  they  stormed  the  palaces  of  the 
obnoxious  nobles,  they  plundered  and  set  fire  to 
them.  Executions,  banishments,  confiscations,  or 
declarations  of  infamy,  by  which  suspicious  person- 
ages were  for  a  certain  time  withdrawn  from  the 
exercise  of  political  rights,  were  the  order  of  the  day. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  Italy  at  this  time,  here  was 
a  war  without  principle,  of  all  against  all.  Emperor 
and  pope  interfered,  but,  like  the  rest,  only  cared 
for  lower  advantages.  Noble  thoughts  had  fallen 
into  oblivion.  In  intellectual  and  political  things,  a 


THE   MEDICI.  31 

court  of  appeal  was  lacking,  where  arbitration  might 
be  sought  for.  The  impulse  to  subdue  and  to  gather 
together  material  possessions  was  the  sole  motive  for 
action. 

If  we  compare  our  own  days,  ^lich  are  con- 
demned by  many  as  disordered  and  unsettled,  with 
the  occurrences  of  those  times,  the  present  condition 
of  things  seems  an  harmonious  juncture,  in  which 
truth,  worth,  and  forbearance  wield  the  sceptre ;  in 
which  every  ignoble  passion  has  lost  its  venom,  and 
even  gold  its  charm.  We  often  imagine  that  every 
thing  in  the  present  day  is  to  be  had  for  money. 
How  little,  however,  do  we  appear  to  be  able  to  effect 
with  this  instrument,  if  we  consider  those  bygone 
passages  of  history !  What  prince  in  the  present 
day  could  so  traffic  with  all  within  his  power,  as 
was  the  case  at  that  time  ?  The  force  of  public 
opinion,  which  at  the  present  day  looks  gloomily 
down  on  the  actions  of  princes  and  peoples,  did 
not  exist.  The  cogent  sense  of  political  morality, 
which  has  been  aroused  in  men's  minds,  was  a 
thing  of  which  then  they  had  not  even  the  remotest 
suspicion. 

The  rule  of  Cosmo  dei  Medici  coincides  with  that 
rise  which  lifted  Italy  from  its  state  of  decay.  Like 
islands  of  safety  in  the  universal  deluge,  the  ideas 
of  the  great  minds  of  antiquity  emerged;  in  the 
general  confusion,  they  fled  to  them.  The  influence 
of  Greek  philosophy  was  animated  afresh.  The 
Medici  participated  most  heartily  in  its  revival. 
Nothing  can  be  said  of  the  art  of  that  day,  without 
the  mention  of  their  names.  The  advantages  be- 


32  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

stowed  by  nature  on  Florence  and  her  citizens  were 
perceived  and  increased  by  Cosmo ;  and  thus  the 
city  became  the  central  point  of  Italy,  which  now 
surpassed  in  culture  the  other  lands  of  Europe. 

6. 

Four  important  artists  appear  in  Florence  at  the 
beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  —  Ghiberti,  Bru- 
nelleschi,  Donatello,  and  Masaccio.  Speaking  figu- 
ratively, we  might  say  that  they  were  four  brothers, 
who  shared  their  father's  glorious  inheritance,  and 
each  of  whom  extended  the  limits  of  his  portion  into 
a  great  kingdom.  These  four  are  the  founders  of  a 
new  art,  which  became,  after  many  years,  the  basis 
of  that  which  is  peerless  in  its  perfection. 

Ghiberti  began  as  apprentice  to  a  goldsmith.  He 
worked  at  first  in  Giotto's  manner.  The  transition 
to  his  own  peculiarities  is  best  seen  on  the  doors  of 
San  Giovanni,  which,  even  at  the  present  day,  except 
a  few  traces  of  destroyed  gilding,  stand  pure  and 
untouched  in  their  place. 

The  church  has  three  open  gates ;  the  fourth, 
towards  the  west,  being  walled  up.  The  southern 
was  supplied,  by  Andrea  Pisano,  with  brazen  wings, 
for  which  Giotto  made  the  designs.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  guild  of  merchants, 
to  whom  the  church  belonged,  determined  to  have 
the  eastern  gate  finished,  and  appointed  a  competi- 
tion of  the  artists,  who  wished  to  set  up  their  claims 
to  the  honor  and  the  gain. 

Ghiberti  was  at  that  time  twenty  years  old.  He 
had  left  Florence,  where  the  plague  prevailed,  and 


GHIBERTI.  83 

had  painted  the  apartments  of  a  palace  in  Rimini 
for  Pandolfo  Halatesta.  He  now  returned  to  his 
native  city.  Six  artists  shared  the  contest  with 
him;  among  them  Branelleschi,  who,  three  years 
older  than  Ghiberti,  disputed  precedency  with  hirn 
for  the  first  time  as  an  adversary. 

The  task  was  so  arranged  that  the  one  completed 
door  was  to  serve  as  a  model.  Each  wing  is  here 
divided  into  a  series"  of  compartments,  one  above 
another,  each  compartment  containing  a  figure  in 
bas-relief.  The  production  of  each  separate  bronze 
compartment  was  required,  and  the  period  of  a  year 
was  allowed  for  it.  Thirty-four  foreign  and  native 
masters  were  appointed  as  deciding  committee. 

Ghiberti  enjoyed  the  help  of  his  father,  with  whom 
he  had  studied,  and  who  assisted  him  in  the  casting 
of  the  bronze.  In  this  competition,  it  was  not  of  so 
much  moment  to  prove  himself  the  worthiest  master 
by  some  device  full  of  genius ;  but  it  was  intended 
to  test  who,  in  whatever  manner,  was  able  to  pro- 
duce the  most  perfect  piece  of  bronze  casting.  It 
depended  on  experience  and  a  skilful  management 
of  the  material.  Ghiberti' s  work  was  considered 
faultlessly  executed ;  and  the  task  was  conferred 
upon  him,  on  the  23d  November,  1403.  A  number 
of  other  artists  were  assigned  to  him  as  fellow-work- 
ers. How  much  was  to  be  ready  every  year  was 
accurately  settled  in  the  contract.  The  work  lasted 
for  twenty-one  years.  On  the  19th  April,  1424,  both 
folding-doors  were  hung  on  their  hinges.  Ghiberti's 
fame  now  spread  throughout  Italy ;  his  services 
were  claimed  on  all  sides  :  but  in  Florence  it  was 

2*  o 


84  LIFE    OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

resolved  that  the  third  door  should  be  consigned  to 
him  also. 

He  was  no  longer  bound  to  any  model :  the  single 
condition  stood  in  the  contract,  that,  so  long  as  he 
was  working  at  the  door,  he  was  to  undertake  no 
other  commission  without  the  consent  of  the  guild 
of  merchants ;  otherwise,  so  far  as  concerned  time 
and  cost,  all  was  left  to  his  will.  It  was,  however, 
expected  from  Mm,  that,  as  ne  had  vanquished  all 
other  masters  in  the  door  already  completed,  he 
would,  in  this  new  one,  surpass  himself.  On  the 
16th  June,  1452,  this  work  also  was  conveyed  to  its 
place.  In  the  first,  his  father  had  helped  him  ;  this 
time,  his  son  Vittorio  could  assist  him  in  the  gilding, 
which  was  done  afterwards.  Not  long  after,  Lorenzo 
Ghiberti  died :  his  whole  life,  amounting  to  seventy- 
four  years,  had  been  devoted  to  these  two  principal 
works. 

The  second  door  surpassed  the  first  in  every  re 
spect.  The  master  followed  freely,  as  he  was  bidden, 
his  own  creative  genius.  His  work  is  tasteful  in  the 
highest  sense  ;  the  most  sublime  which  artistic  work- 
manship could  produce.  The  compositions  of  the 
different  compartments  are  brought  out  in  an  effec- 
tive manner,  which,  without  such  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge and  appropriation  of  all  the  advantages  so 
scantily  afforded  by  the  material,  would  have  been 
impossible.  We  might  call  this  door  the  colossal 
work  of  a  goldsmith ;  we  might,  however,  also  say, 
that  the  separate  compartments  were  pictures  in 
relief,  such  as  only  the  most  skilful  painter  could 
devise.  The  door  is  a  work  in  itself,  which  subse- 


GHIBERTI.  35 

quent  imitation  has  never  been  able  to  arrhe  at. 
The  border  enclosing  the  compartments  —  the  real 
framework  of  the  two  folding-doors  —  is  unusually 
rich  in  figure-ornament,  in  reclining  and  standing 
statuettes,  which  are  executed  with  great  freedom, 
and  are  placed  in  niches,  with  projecting  heads  and 
other  ornaments,  all  exhibiting  the  same  care.  This 
door  is  the  first  important  creation  of  Florentine  art, 
the  influence  of  which  appears  evident  upon  Michael 
Angelo.  The  creation  of  Adam  on  the  ceiling  of 
the  Sistine  Chapel,  the  drunkenness  of  Noah,  and 
the  death  of  Goliath,  in  the  same  place,  owe  their 
primary  idea  to  the  small  figures  of  Ghiberti's  com- 
positions. Michael  Angelo  transformed  them  into 
gigantic  size.  In  some  figures  of  the  framework, 
we  find  attitudes  which  Michael  Angelo  made  use 
of  by  predilection.  Thus,  the  recumbent  position, 
in  which  the  raised  bust  is  supported  sideways  on 
the  bent  arm,  so  that  the  shoulder  is  a  little  pushed 
up,  is  a  conception  of  the  human  form  which  is 
almost  stereotyped  among  Michael  Angelo's  imita- 
tors. Michael  Angelo  said  of  these  doors,  that  they 
were  worthy  to  be  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

What  gave  Ghiberti  the  first  step  in  a  new  direc- 
tion was  the  study  of  the  antique.  A  sense  ^f  the 
value  which  dwelt  within  the  remain*  of  ancient  art 
had  never  been  utterly  extinguished  in  Italy.  The 
nation,  however,  lacked  reverence  and  understand- 
ing. Petrarch  laments  that  the  degenerated  Romans 
carry  on  a  disgraceful  traffic  with  the  ruins  of  their 
ancient  greatness,  and  impoverish  the  city.  About 
the  year  1430,  there  were,  in  the  whole  of  Rome,  six 


36  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

ancient  statues  deserving  mention.  Ghiberti  has 
left  behind  records  of  art :  he  speaks  of  the  discovery 
of  ancient  works  in  marble  as  of  rare  events.  He 
describes  a  hermaphrodite,  which  he  saw  in  Rome 
in  1440,  where  a  sculptor,  who  had  to  execute  the 
monument  of  a  cardinal,  and  was  seeking  for  suit- 
able pieces  of  marble,  discovered  it  eight  feet  undei 
the  ground ;  a  recumbent  figure,  which,  placed  with 
the  smooth  side  of  its  pedestal  over  a  common  sewer, 
served  as  a  coping-stone.  In  Padua,  he  saw  a  sec- 
ond statue,  which  was  discovered  in  Florence,  when 
they  were  digging  out  the  foundation  of  a  house. 
The  third  was  in  Siena :  of  this,  however,  he  had 
only  seen  a  drawing,  which  Ambrosio  Lorenzetti  (a 
pupil  of  Giotto's)  had  made  of  it,  and  which  had 
been  shown  to  him  in  Siena  by  its  possessor,  an  old 
Carthusian  monk,  who  was  a  goldsmith.  The  latter 
had  also  told  him  how,  at  the  discovery  of  the  statue, 
all  the  scholars,  painters,  sculptors,  and  goldsmiths 
of  the  city  had  met  together,  examined  it,  and  had 
consulted  where  it  should  be  erected.  The  fountain 
in  the  market-place  had  been  at  length  selected  for 
this  purpose.  The  statue  was  a  wonderfully  beau- 
tiful work,  with  a  dolphin  at  the  one  foot  on  which 
it  st^od,  and  on  its  pedestal  was  the  name  Lysip- 
pus.* 

A  short  time  after  the  erection  of  the  statue,  the 
war  which  Siena  was  carrying  on  against  Florence 
took  a  bad  turn.  It  must  have  been  about  the  year 
1390,  when  Siena  was  leagued  with  Visconti  against 
the  Florentines.  The  senate  of  the  city  deliberated 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  I. 


BRUNELLESCHI.  37 

how  this  sudden  misfortune  could  have  been  in- 
curred, and  arrived  at  the  opinion,  that,  by  the 
erection  of  this  idol,  which  was  contrary  to  all  Chris- 
tian faith,  they  had  called  down  the  wrath  of  heaven. 
The  unfortunate  work  of  Lysippus  was  thrown  down 
and  broken  into  a  thousand  fragments ;  and  these, 
that  advantage  might  even  be  reaped  from  the  evil, 
they  conveyed  secretly  to  the  Florentine  territory, 
and  buried  in  the  earth  there.  Ghiberti  knew  well 
how  to  appreciate  the  excellences  of  ancient  art. 
He  said  of  a  torso  found  in  Florence,  that  it  was 
executed  with  such  great  nicety  that  its  delicate 
workmanship  was  not  to  be  perceived  by  the  eye 
alone,  either  by  full  or  subdued  light;  it  must  be 
felt  out  by  the  tips  of  the  fingers  to  be  thoroughly 
discovered. 

If  in  this  way  he  learned  the  secrets  of  the  old 
masters,  and  labored  to  apply  them  to  the  advantage 
of  sculpture,  Brunelleschi  with  equal  success  endeav- 
ored to  bring  the  beauty  of  ancient  architecture  into 
honor.  As  the  prize  in  the  competition  had  not 
been  awarded  to  him,  he  set  out  for  Rome  with 
Donatello,  his  younger  friend.  He,  too,  had  begun 
as  goldsmith,  but  had  soon  devoted  himself  to  the 
study  of  architecture.  Yet,  as  Ghiberti  was  an 
architect  as  well  as  a  painter,  so  was  Brunelleschi  a 
painter,  a  sculptor,  and  a  worker  in  bronze.  All 
these  studies  formed  a  whole,  which  was  called  art ; 
just  as  intellectual  work  in  all  its  branches  formed 
a  whole,  which  was  called  science.  This  universality 
of  talent  is  to  be  found  also  in  Giotto,  who,  in  addi- 
tion to  all,  knew  how  to  write  poems. 


88  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

In  Rome  the  two  friends  began  to  survey  the 
remains  of  ancient  architecture.  This  interest  in 
the  ruins  of  their  city  was  utterly  incomprehensible 
to  the  Romans ;  they  imagined  the  young  Floren- 
tines were  digging  for  gold  and  silver  in  the  walls 
of  the  temples  and  imperial  palaces,  and  they  called 
them  the  treasure-diggers.  At  that  time,  much  was 
still  standing  which  lies  in  ruins  at  the  present  day, 
or  has  entirely  disappeared.  It  was  not  till  long 
after  that  period  —  more  than  fifty  years  later  — 
that  the  Cardinal  of  San  Marco  destroyed  the  Coli- 
seum, to  build  the  Venetian  palace  out  of  its  stone. 
Brunelleschi  acquired  in  Rome  those  views  with 
which  he  subsequently  completely  overthrew  the 
Gothic  style.  His  knowledge  of  the  ancient  dome, 
which  he  acquired  by  the  most  accurate  examina- 
tion of  the  Pantheon,  enabled  him  to  arch  the 
dome  of  the  cathedral  in  Florence,  after  the  model 
of  which  Michael  Angelo  subsequently  raised  that  of 
Saint  Peter.  Thus  the  course  of  Florentine  art 
converges  in  him  who  was  unparalleled  among  the 
greatest. 

Returning  to  Florence,  he  was  found  from  time 
to  time  among  those  artists  whose  help  Ghiberti 
required  for  liis  great  work.  Donatello  also  worked 
here  with  him.  They  went  a  second  time  to  Rome, 
where  they  renewed  their  study  of  the  ancients; 
and  now  Brunelleschi  came  forward  well  versed  hi 
his  project  for  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore.  Opposed  to 
him  again  stood  Ghiberti,  who  had  fame  on  his  side, 
and  was  accustomed  to  take  the  lead  in  matters  of 
art. 


BRITNELLESCH1.  39 

The  cathedral  had  long  been  completed ;  its  centre 
alone  was  open  and  roofless.  No  one  knew  how  to 
close  the  immense  opening.  A  competition  was 
invited.  The  Florentine  commercial  houses  in  Ger- 
many, Burgundy,  Prance,  and  England,  received 
orders  to  induce  all  masters  of  importance  to  set  out 
for  Florence.  The  assembly  was  opened  in  1420. 
Various  opinions  were  set  forth.  One  proposed  the 
erection  of  detached  pillars  to  support  the  dome. 
Another  wished  to  wall  up  the  dome  with  pumice- 
stone,  on  account  of  its  lightness.  Another  proposed 
one  single  mighty  supporting  pillar  in  the  centre  of 
the  dome.  The  most  extravagant  proposal  of  all 
was  to  fill  the  entire  church  with  earth,  in  order 
to  obtain  a  temporary  firm  support  for  the  dome. 
In  order  that  this  earth  should  be  removed  all  the 
more  rapidly  on  the  completion  of  the  building, 
small  silver  pieces  were  to  be  mixed  with  it:  all 
hands  would  then  most  readily  carry  it  away. 

Brunelleschi's  project  was  a  free  dome.  He 
wished  to  construct  it  with  the  aid  of  a  scaffolding- 
only.  The  enormous  costs  of  the  others  he  reduced 
to  a  small  sum.  Yet  the  more  he  promised,  the 
more  incredible  seemed  his  words.  Nobody  listened 
to  him ;  and  he  was  already  on  the  point  of  return- 
ing to  Rome,  and  leaving  his  ungrateful  native  city, 
when  it  dawned  at  last  upon  the  minds  of  the 
people  that  there  might  be  something  in  his  reason- 
ing. He  had  wished  not  to  exhibit  his  model  to  the 
company  of  architects  :  he  allowed  it  to  be  seen 
secretly  by  those  only  upon  whose  votes  the  decision 
rested.  A  new  assembly  was  called ;  there  was 


40  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

reiterated  dispute,  reiterated  refusal  to  show  the 
model :  the  victory,  however,  was  at  length  Brunel- 
leschi's,  and  his  superior  intelligence  was  evidenced 
by  a  comparison.  He  asked  the  assembly  to  placo 
an  egg  on  its  point,  and  the  history  of  Columbus' 
egg  followed ;  all  the  architects  combined  not  being 
able  to  place  it  upright,  and  Brunelleschi,  years 
before  Columbus  was  thought  of,  making  it  stand 
according  to  his  method. 

But  once  he  had  obtained  the  building,  the  jeal- 
ousy of  Ghiberti  was  awakened.  Vasari's  account 
of  this  affair  seems  mythical ;  but  still,  all  that  he 
brings  forward  affords  an  insight  into  the  life  and 
doings  of  Florentine  artists,  and  shows  not  only  how 
art  rose  against  art,  but  also  cunning  against  cun- 
ning. Ghiberti  stood  in  the  zenith  of  his  fame.  He 
succeeded  at  last  in  having  the  building  of  the  dome 
assigned  to  him  and  Brunelleschi  together.  Brunel- 
leschi, furious  and  beside  himself  at  this  trick,  was 
again  on  the  point  of  giving  it  all  up.  Donatello, 
however,  and  Luca  della  Robbia — the  latter  likewise 
an  excellent  sculptor — induced  him,  instead  of  tear- 
ing up  his  drawings  and  throwing  them  into  the  fire 
as  he  would  have  done,  to  come  rather  to  an  un- 
derstanding with  the  directors  of  the  building ;  in 
short,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  pacified,  and  tho 
work  was  begun.  His  model,  however,  which  he 
had  constructed  on  a  larger  scale  in  wood,  he  kept 
carefully  shut  up  from  Ghiberti,  who  had  on  his  side 
also  prepared  a  model,  which  he  computed  at  an 
expense  of  three  hundred  lire,  while  Brunelleschi 
only  demanded  fifty.  For  seven  years  they  con- 


BRUNELLESCHI.  41 

tinned  to  build  jointly  till  they  reached  the  critical 
•point,  where  Ghiberti's  power  failed.  It  was  the 
beginning  of  the  dome  itself.  Every  thing  depended 
on  bringing  into  practice  the  right  principle,  accord- 
ing to  which  the  stones  were  to  be  placed.  Bru- 
nelleschi  now  feigned  to  be  ill.  Ghiberti,  at  first 
embarrassed  and  then  helpless,  could  go  no  further 
alone,  and  was  compelled  to  withdraw.  At  first,  he 
retained  his  three  golden  florins  monthly,  which 
both  he  and  Brunelleschi  received ;  to  the  latter 
afterwards  the  salary  was  raised  to  eight,  while  Ghi- 
berti's share  ceased  entirely.  Equally  wisely  did 
Brunelleschi  know  how  to  treat  the  workmen,  who 
were  not  always  accommodating.  His  position  in 
the  city  was  an  important  one.  In  1423  he  appeared 
in  the  Signiory.  Numerous  other  tasks  occupied 
him,  as  well  as  the  great  building  of  the  dome.  Nor 
was  Ghiberti  less  employed,  and  other  masters  also, 
whose  names  and  works  have,  however,  importance 
only  for  those  who  are  able  to  study  them  on  the 
spot. 

Brunelleschi  died  in  1446.  As  an  architect,  he 
was  not  exactly  the  originator  of  the  new  style  which 
supplanted  the  Gothic ;  but  he  was  certainly  the 
master,  who,  by  his  great  power,  stamped  its  supe- 
riority as  a  fact.  Nevertheless,  he,  like  Ghiberti, 
was  rather  a  workman  on  a  grand  scale ;  for  the 
days  still  lay  in  the  far  distance  in  which  men  ap- 
peared who  carried  their  own  nature  into  their  art, 
and  evidenced  it  in  their  works.  This  observation 
especially  applies  to  painters,  who  soonest  attained 
to  this  freedom. 


42  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

The  works  of  different  masters  are  for  the  most 
part  existing  in  abundance.  We  are  able  to  distin- 
guish their  peculiarities,  perhaps  even  their  dispo- 
sitions. One  imitates  here,  another  there ;  one  is  a 
degree  more  tender,  another  coarser.  It  is  a  delight 
to  look  with  a  practised  eye  on  the  series  of  collec- 
tions, and  the  paintings  in  churches,  palaces,  and 
public  buildings,  and  to  recognize,  or  on  examina- 
tion to  ascertain,  the  different  masters.  A  great 
number  of  historical  evidences,  the  completion  of 
which  is  still  unremittingly  carried  on,  of  letters, 
contracts,  and  testaments,  confirm  or  correct  the 
aesthetic  judgment,  and  invest  with  higher  value  the 
works  of  art,  which  by  this  means  are  brought,  even 
historically,  into  connection ;  yet,  in  spite  of  this, 
Florentine  art,  up  to  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  would  have  been  in  the  highest  sense  little 
worthy  Consideration,  had  no  masters  subsequently 
appeared  to  develop  it  into  ultimate  perfection. 
Even  Masaccio's  works — who,  with  Ghiberti  and 
Brunelleschi,  is  reckoned  the  third  great  reviver  of 
art  —  scarcely  approach  the  higher  stage  of  art,  but 
keep  ever  within  the  limits  of  the  noblest  workman- 
ship. These  men  worked  for  definite  ends  in  a 
superior  manner ;  but  in  their  productions  there  is 
that  lacking  which  must  belong  to  a  work  of  art, 
before  we  can  call  its  master  a  genius,  and  his  man- 
ner of  working  a  style.  Every  work  of  a  great 
artist  must,  in  its  perfect  completion,  open  the  mind, 
as  it  were,  to  perceive  a  still  greater  work,  which 
hovers  invisibly  above  it,  and  fills  us,  while  we  know 
not  whence  it  comes,  with  that  ever  unsatisfied  curi- 


i)ONATELLO.  43 

osity,  which,  after  fancying  it  has  exhausted  all,  feels, 
at  the  very  moment  we  turn  away,  that  it  has  only 
seen  the  smallest  part. 

Donatello  appears  to  us  a  man  who  attempted  to 
produce  such  works.  He  was  not  at  peace  with 
himself.  He  had  no  desire  that  his  work  should 
surpass  all  others ;  but  he  aspired  after  the  expression 
of  an  idea,  to  pursue  which  seemed  to  him  more 
than  to  exhibit  technical  perfection.  That  cheerful 
satisfaction  in  the  exercise  of  higher  skill,  which 
appears  in  Ghiberti's  works,  is  lacking  in  his.  For 
the  most  part,  there  is  something  unfinished  and 
coarse  in  them ;  but  they  are  life-like,  and  it  is  the 
spirit  of  their  master  which  has  breathed  this  life 
into  them. 

To  Donatello,  also,  Ghiberti  was  a  powerful  rival, 
though  they  both  took  different  paths.  Whilst  Ghi- 
berti knew  how  to  give  a  certain  grace  to  his  figures, 
and  agreeable  elegance  to  his  ornaments,  and,  by 
equally  finishing  all  detail,  aimed  at  working  the 
separate  parts  into  the  most  favorable  complete 
effect,  Donatello  gave  himself  vigorously  to  the  re- 
gardless imitation  of  nature  as  she  appeared  in  his 
eyes. 

Respecting  this  endeavor,  Yasari  again  brings 
forward  one  of  those  little  stories, —  the  authentici- 
ty of  which  rests  on  a  feeble  foundation, — which, 
however,  appears  important  and  genuine  in  itself, 
characteristic  as  it  is  of  the  nature  of  the  artist. 
In  the  early  period  of  his  work,  he  is  said  to  have 
once  asked  Brunelleschi  for  a  sincere  opinion  re- 
specting a  crucifix  he  had  executed.  "  What  you 


44  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

have  there  done,"  said  the  other,  "  is  no  Christ,  bui 
a  peasant  nailed  to  the  cross."  —  "To  find  fault 
is  easier  than  to  do  better,"  answered  Donatello. 
Brunelleschi  put  up  with  it  quietly,  and  secretly 
executed  a  crucifix  for  himself,  which  he  one  morn- 
ing took  with  him  into  the  atelier.  Donatello  came 
straight  from  the  market,  bringing  with  him  in  his 
apron  their  mutual  breakfast,  —  fruit,  cheese,  eggs, 
etc.  Brunelleschi  held  out  the  crucifix  ;  and  Dona- 
tello was  so  startled  at  the  sight,  that,  raising  his 
hands  in  astonishment,  he  let  every  thing  which  was 
in  the  apron  fall  on  the  ground.  "  How  are  we  now 
to  breakfast  ? "  cried  Brunelleschi.  "  Pick  up  what 
you  like,"  answered  Donatello  ;  "  I  for  my  part  have 
had  my  breakfast  for  to-day.  I  see  truly  that  you 
are  made  for  Christs,  and  my  art  is  fit  for  nothing 
more  than  peasants."  Vasari  relates  the  anecdote 
twice  at  different  places,  and  not  quite  in  accord- 
ance. 

Brunelleschi  was  not  wrong.  A  touch  of  coarse 
reality  marks  the  figures  of  his  friend,  not  even  the 
most  delicate  excepted.  What  a  man  is  the  St. 
George  in  the  niche  of  the  Church  of  Or  San 
Michele  !  He  stands  there  in  complete  armor,  stur- 
dily, with  his  legs  somewhat  striding  apart,  resting 
on  both  with  equal  weight,  as  if  he  meant  to  stand 
,  so  that  no  power  should  move  him  from  his  post. 
Straight  before  him  he  holds  up  his  high  shield ;  both 
hands  touch  its  edge,  partly  for  the  sake  of  holding 
it,  partly  in  order  to  rest  on  it ;  the  eyes  and  brow 
are  full  of  expectant  boldness.  Ghiberti,  too,  has 
furnished  the  niches  of  the  outer  walls  of  Or  San 


DONATELLO.  45 

Michele  with  statues,  the  excellence  of  which  de- 
lights us :  we  approach,  however,  this  St.  George 
and  the  mere  aesthetic  interest  is  transformed  sud- 
denly into  a  more  lively  sympathy  with  the  person  ol 
the  master.  The  technical  part  becomes  secondary. 
Who  is  it,  we  ask,  who  has  placed  such  a -man  thera. 
so  ready  for  battle  ? 

Ghiberti  and  Brunelleschi  stood  in  close  relatior 
with  the  Medici;  Donatello,  it  seems,  to  a  highe* 
extent  than  either.  He  was  the  first  great  artist 
whose  fate  depended  on  that  of  the  family.  The} 
presented  him  with  a  little  estate ;  and,  when  the 
management  of  this  caused  him  too  much  trouble, 
they  changed  the  gift  into  an  annuity.  Cosmo  dei 
Medici  commended  him,  in  dying,  to  his  son  Piero, 
who  took  care  of  him  with  affection,  and  had  him 
honorably  buried  in  San  Lorenzo. 

Donatello  was  a  simple  man,  with  few  wants.  He 
would  not  wear  a  mantle  given  him  by  Cosmo, 
because  it  was  too  splendid.  His  money  is  said  to 
have  always  lain  open  in  a  basket,  which  hung  from 
the  ceiling.  His  friends  might  at  any  time  resort  to 
it  when  they  wanted  it.  Old  and  paralyzed,  lie 
spent  the  last  days  of  his  life  in  a  small  house,  the 
situation  of  which  is  accurately  specified  by  Vasari, 
but  of  which  in  the  present  day  no  vestige  remains. 
The  whole  city  followed  him  to  the  grave  at  his 
burial. 

Ten  years  after  Donatello's  death,  Michael  Angelo 
was  born.  Between  the  two  there  is  a  striking 
mental  affinity.  The  connection  of  an  earlier  master 
with  Michael  Angelo,  as  regards  externals,  would  be 


46  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANUELO. 

easily  imagined ;  but  here  the  similarity  of  nature 
was  so  strong,  that  one  of  the  witty  Florentines  of 
that  day  made  the  observation  that  either  Donatello 
Buonarotticised  or  Buonarotti  Donatellicised.  Dona- 
tello also  chiselled  the  marble  boldly  and  with  ease, 
like  Michael  Angelo ;  but  at  the  same  time,  like  the 
latter,  produced,  when  required,  the  smoothest,  most 
delicate  work.  His  St.  George  is  cast  in  bronze, 
and  is  designed  for  strong  general  effect;  on  the 
other  hand,  in  the  Carthusian  monastery  at  Florence 
there  is  the  monument  of  a  bishop,  which  is  unsur- 
passably  delicate  in  its  workmanship.  In  the  centre 
of  an  apartment,  the  long  extended  figure,  resting 
on  its  back,  lies  on  the  stone  floor,  with  no  other 
support  than  a  pillow  under  the  head.  Protected 
by  the  sacred  stillness  and  seclusion  of  the  cloister, 
untouched  by  decay,  scarcely  covered  with  dust,  the 
marble  has  preserved  its  early  freshness  for  centuries. 
It  is  here  we  become  convinced,  that,  if  the  master 
worked  elsewhere  with  coarser  touches,  it  was  his 
will,  and  not  because  his  hand  refused  the  more 
delicate  work.  Equally  great  with  his  art  in  marble 
was  his  skill  in  casting  bronze.  The  Church  of  San 
Lorenzo,  which  Brunelleschi  rebuilt  for  the  Medici, 
is,  in  its  interior  decorations,  the  work  of  Donatello 
and  his  pupils.  Michael  Angelo  completed  there 
what  was  still  wanting.  And  yet  this  church,  filled 
with  a  series  of  works  by  both  artists,  each  of  which 
singly  might  have  given  a  name  to  its  author,  is  only 
one  place  among  the  many  which  is  rendered  glorious 
by  the  richness  of  their  fancy. 

Florence  is  full  of  Donatello' s  works ;  the  rest  of 


DONATELLO.  47 

Tuscany  and  Italy  possess  likewise  a  good  share.  If 
we  consider  the  works  singly,  here  and  there,  we  see 
only  the  art  of  one  man ;  but,  if  we  calculate  the  whole 
sum,  —  the  labor,  the  extent,  the  value,  —  we  see 
in  spirit  the  master  in  the  midst  of  a  great  workshop, 
surrounded  by  numerous  distinguished  pupils,  who 
are  all  biisy  under  his  name.  The  most  excellent 
works  alone  are  imputed  to  Donatello  himself,  whilst 
the  more  indifferent  are  assigned  only  to  his  atelier. 
Such  activity,  however,  is  not  to  be  conceived  apart 
from  a  people,  unwearied  in  inciting  their  artists  to 
renewed  efforts. 

7. 

Donatello  lived  in  times  in  which  there  was  a 
greater  abundance  of  the  works  of  ancient  art.  He 
suggested  to  Cosmo  the  idea  of  collecting  ancient 
statues,  and  erecting  them  publicly.  If  broken  or 
mutilated,  he  repaired  them.  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  those  gardens  of  San  Marco,  which  were 
filled  with  so  many  treasures,  and  in  which  Michael 
Angelo  as  a  child  pursued  his  studies.  That  which 
in  the  youth  of  Donatello  had  been  rather  the 
curious  fancy  of  a  single  man,  had  risen  by  degrees 
to  be  the  taste  of  the  great  public ;  and  the  advan- 
tages which  he  and  others  with  him,  following  their 
instinct,  had  with  labor  gathered  together  in  their 
youth,  were  transmitted  henceforth  to  succeeding 
artists  as  an  indispensable  but  easily  obtained  study. 

The  total  change  accomplished  in  Italy  during  the 
life  and  influence  of  these  four  artists  pervaded 
every  thing.  Ancient  art  burst  forth  in  fresh  springs, 


48  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

and  fertilized  the  world.  The  popes  offered  no  re- 
sistance ;  they,  and  the  temporal  and  spiritual  lords 
of  Italy,  vied  in  appropriating  the  revival  of  ancient 
culture  to  their  own  intellectual  enjoyments.  The 
art  of  printing  extended  the  influence  of  the  Roman 
and  Greek  authors  ad  infinitum.  In  Florence,  the 
beginning  of  this  period  and  the  complete  authority 
of  the  Medici  coincide  with  the  enlargement  of  the 
territory  and  the  important  extension  of  commercial 
relations.  From  all  ends  of  the  world,  wealth 
poured  into  the  city.  The  families  of  the  great 
citizens  had  princely  means  in  possession.  A  new 
generation  grew  up ;  but  the  first  traces  were  also 
exhibited  of  those  views  which  regard  the  beau- 
tiful enjoyment  of  life  as  higher  than  that  furious 
patriotism,  and  that  yearning  desire  for  liberty, 
which  hitherto  had  guided  the  destiny  of  the 
city.  . 

This  period,  however,  is  more  familiar  and  intelli- 
gible to  us.  It  has  nothing  mythical  in  it,  like  the 
preceding ;  it  is  full  of  characters,  whose  course  of 
action  we  follow  and  understand ;  and  the  three 
great  artists  who  appear  in  it,  and  render  it  glorious 
by  their  works,  stand  as  living  men  before  us.  Ciin- 
abue,  Giotto,  and  even  Dante,  are  scarcely  more' 
than  great  vague  shadows  of  men,  whos'e  entire 
works  we  cover  with  their  names.  Ghiberti,  Bru- 
nelleschi,  and  Donatello  appear  more  tangible  and 
living,  —  Donatello  almost  as  a  character  that  we 
know.  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  however,  the  oldest  of 
the  three  of  whom  we  are  now  about  to  speak,  casts 
off  all  that  is  misty ;  and  although  we  know  least  of 


LEONARDO   DA   VINCI.  4k 

his  fate,  compared  with  the  two  others,  and  his 
course  is  often  hidden  in  obscurity,  we  still  feel 
his  whole  heart  in  his  works,  ond  stand  close  to  him 
as  though  we  met  him. 

Leonardo  is  not  a  man  whom  we  could  pass  by  at 
will,  but  a  power  which  enchains  us,  and  from  the 
charms  of  which  no  one  withdraws  who  has  once 
been  touched  by  it.  He  who  has  seen  the  Mona 
Lisa  smile,  is  followed  for  ever  by  this  smile,  just 
as  he  is  followed  by  Lear's  fury,  Macbeth' s  ambi- 
tion, Hamlet's  melancholy,  and  Iphigenia's  touching 
purity. 

When  painters  become  as  great  as  he,  their  works 
become  personal  deeds ;  and  whatever  in  any  way 
is  remotely  connected  with  their  origin  gains  higher 
importance.  Their  travels  are  no  longer  mere  busi- 
ness travels ;  their  animosities  or  alliances  are  no 
outward  circumstances ;  none  of  their  experiences 
seem  to  have  been  without  influence  upon  their 
works.  Whether  Donatello  works  in  Venice,  Padua, 
or  Naples,  in  periods  of  war  or  peace,  he  is  the  same 
everywhere.  Whether  Ghiberti,  when  he  was  mod- 
elling, casting,  and  gilding  his  gates,  lived  happily 
or  unhappily,  is  a  question,  the  most  accurate  reply 
to  which  would  affect  us  but  little.  Even  with  the 
lovely  female  profiles  of  Filippo  Lippi,  curiosity  of 
this  kind  never  arises.  We  contemplate  with  emo- 
tion the  portrait  of  the  beautiful  Simoneta,  who  died 
so  early,  the  loved  one  of  Giuliano  dei  Medici,  who 
was  assassinated  in  his  youth ;  but  we  reflect  not 
with  what  eyes  Botticelli  himself  glanced  at  her  when 
he  drew  those  tender  lines.  Leonardo's  women,  on 

VOL.   I.  3  D 


50  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  contrary  —  what  an  atmosphere  surrounds  these 
forms  !  what  a  desire  is  awakened  to  know  how  much 
conscious  art  has  done  here,  how  much  the  charm  of 
the  portrait  is  indebted  to  the  heart  of  the  painter ! 
Speculating  curiosity  becomes  busy  in  our  mind  as 
soon  as  we  begin  to  inquire  and  conjecture.  We 
feel  the  same  with  Goethe's  poems.  It  seems  im- 
possible for  them  not  to  have  originated  entirely  as 
parts  of  his  lived  life.  This  enigmatical  nature  — 
this  mystery,  defying  all  explanation,  yet  continually 
exciting  our  ingenuity  —  is  the  exclusive  possession 
of  works  which  have  been  executed  by  great  artists. 
This  is  what  attracts  us  powerfully ;  and  all  that 
which  is  esteemed  by  lesser  artists  as  such  a  princi- 
pal matter, — their  technical  art,  their  learning,  their 
progress  in  conception  and  treatment  —  become 
secondary  things,  and  seem  worthy  of  less  consid- 
eration. 

Leonardo  was  born  in  1452,  the  illegitimate  son 
of  a  rich  noble.  If  we  read  Yasari's  account  of  his 
life,  we  are  tempted  to  regard  it  as  a  series  of  charm- 
ing little  stories,  laid  to  the  account  of  a  great,  but 
somewhat  unknown  man  in  Florence.  For  Leonardo 
was,  for  the  greater  part  of  his  life,  far  away  from 
his  native  city.  But  his  works  harmonize  with  the 
strange  things  of  which  Vasari  tells.  An  abundance 
of  his  designs  are  preserved  in  London,  Florence, 
and  other  places.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  described 
what  caricatures  are  here  seen  to  be  executed  with 
the  utmost  fineness  and  care  by  Leonardo's  hand,  — 
caricatures  designed  with  scientific  accuracy;  each 
succeeding  one  more  monstrous  than  the  past. 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI.  51 

These  figures  could  not  possibly  have  had  an  aim, 
like  that  perhaps  of  the  distorted  faces  which  Michael 
Angelo  introduced  in  decoration,  after  the  fashion 
of  grotesque  forms.  They  are  merely  attempts  to 
carry  ugliness  as  far  as  possible  ;  fixed  dreams,  as  it 
were,  of  a  fancy  directed  to  the  distortions  of  the 
human  form.  So  we  readily  believe  Vasari,  when 
he  relates  that  Leonardo  for  days  would  follow  a 
striking  countenance,  only  for  the  sake  of  taking  it 
in  thoroughly,  and  committing  it  to  paper.  Or  he 
would  invite  a  troop  of  peasants  to  dinner,  encourage 
them  to  feel  quite  comfortable,  excite  them  to  laxigh- 
ter,  and,  with  the  help  of  his  good  friends,  keep  them 
long  enough  to  have  their  grinning  faces  engraven 
firmly  in  his  memory.  He  would  then  depart  in 
haste,  and  begin  to  draw ;  upon  which  a  picture 
would  be  executed  which  no  man  could  see  without 
laughing  himself.  It  is  as  if  Leonardo  had  felt 
within  himself  the  necessity  for  some  glaring  con- 
trast to  those  truly  heavenly  forms  which  he  was 
capable  of  producing.  He  himself,  beautiful  in 
countenance,  strong  as  a  Titan,  generous,  with 
numerous  servants  and  horses,  and  fanciful  furni- 
ture ;  a  perfect  musician,  fascinatingly  charming 
with  high  and  low ;  poet,  sculptor,  anatomist,  archi- 
tect, engineer,  mechanic ;  a  friend  of  princes  and 
kings  ;  and  yet,  as  citizen  of  his  country,  having 
an  obscure  existence,  which,  rarely  emerging  from 
its  twilight,  had  no  opportunity  for  employing  its 
powers  simply  and  freely  for  any  great  cause. 

Such  natures  rarely  but  possibly  appear,  —  na- 
tures which,  with  eminent  talents,  seem  nevertheless 


,*>5J  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

created  only  for  fantastical  things ;  which,  in  the 
most  serious,  deepest  works  of  the  mind,  retain 
the  inclination  to  a  kind  of  childlike  playfulness. 
Such  men  are  born  in  a  high  position :  genial,  noble, 
independent,  and  with  an  undefined  desire  for  action, 
they  enter  the  world.  All  stands  open  before  them ; 
real,  depressing  care  approaches  under  no  form ;  they 
prepare  for  themselves  a  life  which  no  one  besides 
themselves  understands,  because  no  one  has  been 
born  like  them  under  the  conditions  which  lead  to 
these  peculiarities,  as  a  necessary  fate  from  which 
they  cannot  escape. 

Such  a  mind  was  Alfieri,  with  unusual,  but  per- 
fectly absolute  energy,  if  left  to  himself;  incapable  of 
taking  any  other  course  than  that  which  his  nature 
blindly  discovered.  Lord  Byron  also  was  similarly 
organized ;  carried  here  and  there  -by  the  will  of  a 
demonlike  restlessness.  How  came  a  man  of  Leon- 
ardo's genius,  who  had  a  great  and  powerful  party 
on  his  side,  to  resolve  to  abandon  his  beloved  Flor- 
ence for  so  many  years,  and  at  length  to  go  to 
Prance,  as  if  in  exile?  Superior  to  all  others,  he 
refused  to  assert  his  position.  In  contact  with  the 
most  remarkable  men  of  his  day,  he  yet  stands  in 
natural  public  connection  with  none.  Unfortu- 
nately, Vasari's  biography,  which  overlooks  entire 
epochs,  and  is  obscure  in  detail,  is  almost  the  only 
source  from  which  we  learn  any  thing  of  Leonardo's 
external  history.  For,  although  he  has  himself  left 
behind  whole  volumes  of  written  works,  we  gain 
from  them  little  worth  knowing  respecting  the 
course  he  took. 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI.  53 

The  usual  career  of  the  Florentine  artists  was, 
that  they  began  life  as  goldsmith  apprentices.  They 
thus  obtained  the  most  solid  foundation.  The 
difference  between  art  and  workmanship  was  well 
known  ;  but  it  referred  to  the  works  themselves, 
not  to  those  who  produced  the  works.  In  France, 
in  the  fourteenth  century,  this  was  the  distinction : 
what  was  executed  for  the  Church  and  the  king  was 
a  work  of  art ;  the  rest  was  the  work  of  mechanics.* 
The  aim  in  all  cases  was  to  gain  money. 

Leonardo  arrived  at  art  in  a  different  manner. 
Drawing  and  modelling  were  a  delight  to  him. 
His  father,  by  whom  he  was  treated  just  like  his 
legitimate  brothers  and  sisters,  gave  some  of  Ms 
drawings  to  Andrea  Yerrochio,  a  pupil  of  Dona- 
tello's,  and,  after  his  death,  the  first  painter  in 
Florence.  He  urged  Messer  Piero  da  Vinci  to  let 
his  son  be  a  painter,  and  lie  admitted  Leonardo  into 
his  atelier.  There  was  painting,  working  in  marble, 
and  casting  in  bronze,  going  on  there.  Yasari  as- 
serts that  he  has  seen  some  female  heads  modelled 
In  clay,  belonging  to  this  early  period,  with  a  smiling 
expression.  Thus,  at  the  very  beginning,  we  see 
that  smile  in  Leonardo's  female  countenances,  which 
is  repeated  in  so  many  later  pictures ;  and  which  at 
length  became  constantly  adopted  by  his  pupils 
especially  by  Luini. 

Besides  the  plastic  art,  he  pursued  mechanical  and 
architectural  studies.  His  mind  was  directed  to 
extraordinary  things ;  to  all  that  was  difficult ;  to 
the  invention  of  ingenious  mill-works,  of  an  appara- 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  II. 


54  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

tus  for  flying,  of  machines  to  bore  tunnels  through 
mountains  or  to  remove  immense  loads,  of  contriv- 
ances to  drain  marshes.  The  grandest  of  his  pro- 
jects was  to  raise  as  it  stood  the  Church  of  San 
Giovanni,  which,  hy  the  gradual  elevation  of  the 
pavement  round  it,  had  sunk  too  deep  into  the  soil ; 
and  to  place  a  substructure  with  steps  below  it. 
Every  one  knew  that  this  was  impossible,  remarks 
Vasari  (who  himself,  however,  in  such  matters, 
would  gladly  have  accomplished  even  the  impossi- 
ble) ;  but,  when  Leonardo  demonstrated  how  he 
contemplated  setting  to  work,  they  were  compelled 
to  give  credence  to  him.  At  the  present  day,  in 
such  a  matter,  perhaps  the  expense  alone  would  be 
the  point  in  question. 

Amid  such  pursuits,  Leonardo  enjoyed  his  life 
and  youth.  He  was  especially  fond  of  beautiful 
horses  and  other  animals,  in  which  he  took  much 
pleasure.  This  inclination  for  animals  of  all  kinds 
we  find  again  in  Alfieri  and  Byron.  I  should  assign 
it  to  an  entire  class  of  men,  whether  they  were  minds 
of  genius,  or  unproductive  natures.  A  kind  of  am- 
bition lies  at  the  foundation  of  it.  From  their  own 
restlessness  of  mind,  they  cannot  assert  lasting  men- 
tal power  over  their  equals;  and  since  they  can 
neither  keep  slaves,  nor  are  born  princes,  they  con 
fine  themselves  to  the  unapproachable  dominion 
over  a  people  of  animals,  which,  in  their  ability  for 
showing  fidelity,  form  a  substitute  for  men ;  an 3 
because  they  bear  no  grudge  for  evil  treatment,  or 
otherwise  assert  themselves,  they  seem  a  preferable 
society,  with  whom  it  is  easy  to  live  peaceably.  In 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI.  '  55 

Vasari,  we  meet  with  other  painters  of  lesser  impor- 
tance, among  them  pupils  of  Leonardo,  who  culti- 
vated similar  inclinations. 

With  such  favorite  amusements,  botany,  anatomy, 
astronomy,  and  astrology  went  hand  in  hand.  From 
the  latter  especially,  Leonardo  is  said  to  have  formed 
heretical  views  to  such  a  degree  that  he  was  re- 
garded by  every  one  rather  as  a  heathen  than  a 
Christian.  Yet  we  find  this  remark  only  in  the 
first  edition  of  Vasari's  works.  In  the  second  he 
omits  it,  and  does  well  in  so  doing,  as  his  present 
excellent  Florentine  editors  remark,  since  certainly 
such  an  assertion  could  have  been  owing  only  to  a 
misunderstanding.  Considered  impartially,  Leon- 
ardo's heresy  seems,  however,  in  unison  with  the 
character  of  the  man,  and  the  views  of  his  age. 
Classical  studies  prevailed ;  and,  in  ethics,  views 
equally  indifferent  to  good  and  evil,  faith  and  unbe- 
lief, in  the  Christian  sense.  The  nobles  and  the 
higher  clergy  held  them  in  reverence.  The  Academy 
of  Florence  —  that  court  of  the  Medici,  so  cultivated 
in  Greek  literature  —  raised  the  Platonic  philosophy 
to  be  the  second  religion  of  the  State.  Those  who 
strictly  preserved  another  line  of  thought  stood  iso- 
lated, as  a  little  band  in  the  midst  of  the  throng ; 
and  it  was  not  until  long  after  Leonardo's  death, 
that  this  state  of  things  gave  way  before  the  preva- 
lence of  other  opinions.  Such,  however,  was  the 
period  in  which  Vasari  prepared  his  work. 

Leonardo  soon  surpassed  his  master,  Yerrochio. 
In  a  picture  which  the  latter  was  painting  for  the 
monks  of  Vallombrosa,  representing  the  baptism  of 


56  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

St.  John,  an  angel  by  Leonardo's  hand  was  so  con- 
spicuous from  its  beauty,  that  Verrochio  from  that 
time  forth  is  said  to  have  completely  given  up  paint- 
ing. Similar  catastrophes  are,  however,  too  often 
related  by  Vasari,  for  us  to  receive  them  at  any  time 
as  literal  truth.  His  next  work  was  the  design  for 
a  tapestry  to  hang  before  a  door,  which  was  to  be 
woven  in  Flanders  for  the  king  of  Portugal.  We 
must  here  observe,  that  the  connection  between  Flor- 
ence, Lisbon,  and  the  northern  part  of  the  Nether- 
lands, had  long  been  general ;  there  were  Florentine 
houses  everywhere.  Leonardo  had  represented  on 
the  tapestry  the  fall  of  man.  The  landscape  with 
its  plants  and  animals,  and  the  tree  with  its  branches 
and  leaves,  were  executed  with  such  delicacy  and 
perfection,  that  the  patience  of  the  artist  appeared 
just  as  worthy  of  admiration  as  his  art.  This  car- 
toon was  still  extant  in  Florence  in  Vasari's  time. 

While  especially  commending  care  and  complete- 
ness in  the  management  of  the  detail,  we  must  at  all 
times  keep  in  view  the  works  of  the  Florentine  mas- 
ters of  that  day,  with  whom  miniature-like  accuracy 
was  customary.  Leonardo,  however,  stands  highest 
in  this  respect.  Hence  the  reproach,  that  he  was 
never  ready  with  his  pictures,  —  that  he  had  begun 
so  much,  and  left  so  much  unfinished, — appears  very 
natural.  The  care  with  which  he  prepared  his  oil 
and  colors  surpasses  every  thing  which  now  seems 
possible. 

The  origin  of  the  fearful  Medusa  head,  which  was 
also  one  of  his  earliest  works,  is  very  distinctly  re- 
lated by  Vasari.  Leonardo  collected  a  brood  of 


LEONARDO    DA    VINCI.  57 

venomous  swelling  toads ;  he  put  them  in  his  house, 
provoked  them  to  rage,  and  observed  them  till  his 
imagination  had  absorbed  enough  for  his  painting. 
When  completed,  he  brought  the  picture  into  a 
darkened  room,  cut  a  hole  in  the  window-shutter,  so 
that  the  ray  of  light  exactly  fell  upon  the  head  of 
the  Medusa,  and  beamed  upon  it  with  lustrous 
brightness.  With  this  the  curious,  who  were  mys- 
teriously brought  in,  were  filled  with  fright.  He 
afterwards  painted  for  one  of  his  friends  the  god 
Neptune.  In  this  picture,  the  naturalness  of  the 
dashing  waves,  the  strangeness  of  the  sea-monsters 
lashing  them,  and  the  magnificent  beauty  of  the 
god-like  form,  produced  an  extraordinary  eifect. 
This  predilection  for  the  fanciful  lay,  however,  not 
so  much  in  the  character  of  the  artist  himself,  as  in 
the  general  tendency  of  the  world  at  that  time ;  and 
many  works  of  Leonardo's  earlier  associates  cor- 
respond in  spirit  with  his  own,  according  to  Vasari's 
description  of  them ;  for  they  are  no  longer  pre- 
served. Even  in  his  latest  pictures,  however,  he 
remained  true  to  this  fabulous  mood,  which  is 
breathed  forth  from  them  as  from  the  verses  of 
Byron,  a  poet  who  always  reminds  me  of  Leonardo. 
So  strong  was  the  whimsical  dreaminess  of  his 
nature,  that  he  seriously  advised  his  pupils  to  look 
attentively  at  the  damp  spots  of  old  walls,  at  ashes, 
and  other  chance  rubbish ;  as  by  so  doing  the  noblest 
ideas  of  paintings  occur  to  the  mind.  And  so  great 
was  his  art  of  perceiving  and  representing  the  hidden 
depths  of  the  soul,  that  in  this  he  has  surpassed  all 
others.  To  estimate  this,  we  must  see  the  female 

3* 


58  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

head  in  the  Augsburg  Museum,  where  passion  is  ex- 
pressed with  such  truth  that  we  fancy  we  know  the 
fortunes  which  fashioned  those  lines,  and  we  cannot 
tear  ourselves  from  the  fearfully  beautiful  mystery 
of  the  countenance. 

The  prime  of  his  talent  was  not  developed  in  his 
native  country.  He  may  have  numbered  somewhat 
more  than  thirty  years  when  he  went  to  Milan, 
where  Ludovico  Sforza  was  in  authority.  It  would 
seem  natural  for  Leonardo  to  have  gone  there  for 
the  sake  of  some  important  artistic  undertaking,  yet 
nothing  is  told  us  of  such.  Sforza  liked  stringed 
instruments ;  he  had  heard  what  a  master  on  them 
Leonardo  was,  and  he  requested  his  presence.  Leo- 
nardo obeyed  the  summons.  He  manufactured  for 
himself  a  silver  lyre,  which  he  made  in  the  form  of  a 
horse's  head  ;  and  to  its  music  he  sang  the  verses  he 
had  composed,  by  which  he  enchanted  the  duke  and 
his  magnificent  court.  This  was  the  first  appearance 
of  the  handsome  Florentine  in  Milan.  Soon,  how- 
ever, work  opened  before  him  which  fascinated  him 
quite  as  much  as  Sforza' s  good-will.  He  found  full  • 
scope  for  his  talents,  and  occupied  the  first  position 
as  a  painter.  We  will  leave  him  here.  It  was 
during  these  years  that  Michael  Angelo's  art  began 
to  develop  itself. 


THE  GREAT  MEN  OF  HISTORY.         59 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

The  Great  Men  of  History  —  The  Sources  of  Michael  Angelo's 
Life — Vasari's  Connection  with  Condivi  —  The  Italian  Histo- 
rians —  The  Florentine  and  London  Papers  —  The  Buonarroti 
Family — Birth  and  Early  Youth  of  Michael  Angelo  —  Fran- 
cesco Granacci  —  The  Brothers  Ghirlandajo  —  Lorenzo  di 
Medici  —  The  Conspiracy  of  the  Pazzi  —  The  Gardens  of  the 
Medici  —  Life  in  Florence,  and  her  Artists. 

A  CCORDLNG  to  the  same  laws  by  which  that 
•£*•  which  we  have  experienced  assumes  a  fixed 
form  in  our  memory,  the  history  of  a  nation  moulds 
itself  in  the  consciousness  of  its  people,  as  the  sense 
of  the  tenor  of  their  past  does  in  that  of  mankind 
generally.  It  would  be  natural,  perhaps,  as  the 
result  of  comparative  science,  to  waive  entirely  the 
question  of  creation,  and  to  suppose  a  throng  of 
human  beings  disappearing  in  a  past  of  incalcula- 
ble years,  their  origin  never  having  been  elucidated. 
This,  however,  is  opposed  to  general  feeling.  Men 
desire  to  hear  that  a  pair  were  created,  suddenly,  by 
the  will  of  God ;  that  from  them  the  peoples  are 
descended  who  are  living  at  the  present  day.  The 
further  we  look  back,  the  more  empty  and  the  more 
bright  the  lands  appear  ;  more  powerful,  more  beau- 
tiful, and  more  solitary  beings  dwelt  in  them.  More 
and  more  populous  grew  the  globe,  more  ordinary 


GO  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

its  inhabitants,  more  rare  its  great  men, — and  these 
even  of  an  inferior  quality,  •*—  until  at  length  we 
come  down  to  our  own  time,  in  which  no  more 
heroes  are  produced,  —  in  which  the  most  pitiful 
fellow  who  lives,  eats,  and  drinks,  has  in  common 
with  the  noblest  a  name  of  his  own  which  can  call 
forth  an  echo  from  the  four  ends  of  the  world. 

This  view  of  events  seems  to  correspond  with  the 
general  feeling.  We  meet  with  it  everywhere. 
Thus  we  say,  and  thus  it  is  said,  —  all  that  is  pure 
and  heroic  lies  in  the  Past ;  all  that  is  common,  in 
the  Present. 

But  another  view  of  things  gains  ground. 

During  the  period  in  which  a  volcano  cooled,  and 
from  its  congealed  streams  of  lava  a  wooded  moun- 
tain was  formed,  while  the  crater  became  a  calm, 
deep-lying  lake,  generation  after  generation  died 
away.  It  required  from  three  to  four  thousand 
years  to  complete  this  transformation.  It  is  so  dis- 
tinctly to  be  perceived  at  the  present  day,  that  no 
doubt  is  raised  how  it  was  accomplished.  Compared 
with  such  tardiness,  the  longest  wars  of  men  appear 
like  the  rapid  blazing  of  a  fire  of  brushwood ;  and 
the  prolonged  suffering  of  a  human  being  seems 
short  as  the  momentary  death  of  a  beetle  whose  tiny 
life  we  have  by  chance  trodden  out  with  our  foot. 
The  remotest  mythical  ages  of  history  lie  easily  and 
palpably  near  us.  Men  lived  then  as  at  the  present 
day,  —  they  ate,  they  drank,  they  loved,  and  they 
quarrelled.  In  the  lakes  of  S \vitzerland,  the  remains 
of  a  people  have  been  discovered,  whose  existence 
seems  to  precede  all  that  we  now  call  the  history  of 


THE   GREAT   MEN   OP    HISTORY.  61 

Europe.  Half-burned  corn,  potsherds,  working-tools, 
and  all  sorts  of  bones,  have  been  found.  They  ap- 
pear no  more  gigantic  than  the  tools  and  skulls  of 
Indians  who  live  at  the  present  day,  —  probably 
under  the  same  conditions  as  those  people  did,  of 
whose  end  we  know  nothing. 

What  are  we,  with  our  measures  of  space  and 
time  ?  Of  what  consequence  is  this  earth,  if  we 
consider  it  as  one  star  amid  countless  others  ?  How 
many  revolutions  did  it  experience  before  human 
beings  were  on  it  ?  how  long  were  there  inhabitants 
of  earth,  before  they  began  to  remember  the  past  ? 
The  couple  of  thousand  years,  which  we  designate 
history,  is  a  segment  but  a  span  long  of  an  extent 
which  could  be  measured  by  miles.  We  must  cease 
to  consider  it  as  long,  before  we  can  obtain  a  just 
view  of  these  proportions.  The  parts  of  Germany 
which  lie  on  the  other  side  of  the  Elbe  were  to  the 
Romans  just  as  misty  fabulous  lands,  as  were  the 
islands  of  the  calm  ocean  to  the  middle  ages,  at 
the  time  of  the  discovery  of  America.  In  the  pres- 
ent day,  the  lowest  classes  speak  of  South  America, 
Australia,  and  Japan,  and  of  the  epochs  of  the 
earth's  formation.  The  heroic  ages  lie  no  longer  in 
the  past ;  but  we  expect  them  as  the  noblest  fruit  of 
the  future :  we  go  onwards,  not  backwards. 

Our  view  of  the  world  has  reached  its  crisis.  We 
look  with  contempt  behind  us,  and  expect  new  reve- 
lations of  the  human  mind,  greater  things  than  the 
world  has  ever  seen. 

As  certainly  as  the  orbits  of  the  stars  intersect 
each  other,  each  affecting  the  course  of  the  other, 


62  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

and  influencing  by  its  slightest  peculiarity ;  so  cer- 
tainly do  the  human  beings  who  live,  who  have 
lived,  and  who  are  yet  to  live,  form  in  themselves  an 
immense  system,  in  which  the  smallest  movement  of 
each  single  one  is  for  the  most  part  imperceptible, 
but  yet  affects  by  its  influence  the  general  unceasing 
progress.  History  is  the  relation  of  the  fluctuations 
which  occur  on  a  large  scale,  from  the  dissimilarity 
of  the  powers  of  individual  men.  Our  desire  to 
study  history  is  the  longing  to  know  the  law  of  these 
fluctuations,  and  of  the  distribution  of  power  affect- 
ing them ;  and  as  currents,  or  motionless  spots,  or 
storm-tossed  whirlpools,  meet  our  eye,  we  discover 
men  as  the  moving  power,  —  mighty  individuals, 
governing  by  the  immense  influence  of  their  mind 
the  remaining  millions,  who,  of  lower  and  duller 
intelligence,  are  compelled  to  yield  to  them.  These 
men  are  the  great  men  of  history,  resting-points  for 
the  mind  as  it  gropes  amid  endless  facts ;  wherever 
they  appear,  the  age  grows  light  and  intelligible ; 
where  they  are  lacking,  an  impenetrable  obscurity 
prevails ;  and,  when  masses  of  so-called  facts  are 
communicated  to  us  from  an  epoch  deficient  in  great 
men,  they  are  mere  things  without  weight  and  meas- 
ure, which,  great  as  is  the  space  they  occupy  when 
grouped  together,  form  no  whole. 

Reverence  for  what  is  great  is  a  universal  feeling. 
Mankind  has  always  known  it;  it  needs  not  to  be 
explained.  The  worth  and  influence  of  any  man 
depends  on  how  far  he  is  capable  of  being  called 
gre«t  himself,  or  of  attaching  himself  to  those  who 
arc  «so.  That  only  which  is  apparent  of  the  man,  in 


THE   GREAT   MEN   OF   HISTORY.  63 

tliis  point  of  view,  forms  his  imperishable  character. 
A  ruler  who  with  iron  will  forces  nations  to  follow 
his  caprices  is  soon  forgotten ;  regarded  for  a  time 
as  a  sort  of  ape  of  Providence;  the  idea  of  his  char- 
acter vanishes,  and  with  it  his  name.  A  despised, 
obscure  mortal,  who,  deeply  feeling  the  condition  of 
his  people, 'conceived  and  uttered  one  fruitful  thought, 
which  the  people  needed  ere  they  could  advance  a 
step  forward,  is  immortal  in  his  influence.  And,  if 
his  name  were  to  be  forgotten,  we  should  still  ever 
feel,  that  a  mighty  man  must  have  stood  in  that 
place. 

Thus  the  study  of  history  no  longer  awakens  in 
us  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  nobler  days,  but  a  certainty 
of  their  future  appearance.  As  we  advance,  we  wish 
to  know  those  who  took  the  lead  at  all  times.  The  , 
study  of  history  is  the  contemplation  of  events  as 
they  stand  in  relation  to  great  men.  These  form  the 
central  point  from  which  the  picture  must  be  studied. 
Enthusiasm  for  them  enables  us  to  occupy  a  just 
point  of  view  respecting  them.  We  desire  to  con- 
template them,  and  to  impart  to  others  the  gift  of 
contemplation.  This  is  what  Goethe  meant  when  he 
said  enthusiasm  is  the  one  thing  necessary  to  his- 
tory. 

Our  desire  is  to  obtain  the  noblest  view  of  man. 
When  we  look  at  great  men,  it  is  as  if  we  saw  a  vic- 
torious army,  the  flower  of  a  people,  marching  along. 
As,  in  such  a  triumphal  procession,  even  the  lowest 
soldier  of  the  army  stands  high  above  all  specta- 
tors, so  do  even  the  least  of  those  whom  we  call 
great  men  stand  exalted  above  the  immeasurable 


64  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

multitude  of  mortals.  The  same  laurel  adorns 
them  all.  A  higher  fellowship  exists  among  them. 
They  are  divided  according  to  their  position  on 
earth;  now  they  stand  close  together,  —  language, 
habits,  position,  and  centuries  separate  them  no 
more.  They  all  speak  one  common  language,  know- 
ing nothing  of  castes,  of  noble  or  pariah ;  and  he 
who  now,  or  in  tunes  to  come,  thinks  and  acts  like 
them,  rises  up  to  them,  and  is  admitted  into  their 
circle. 

2. 

Among  the  citizens  of  Florence,  Dante,  Leonardo 
da  Vinci,  and  Michael  Angelo  must  be  designated 
great  men.  Raphael  came  from  Urbino ;  yet  he  may 
be  classed  with  them,  because  as  a  painter  he  might 
be  considered  a  Florentine.  Dante  and  Michael  An- 
gelo stand  highest.  It  is  not  the  result  of  one-sided 
predilection,  if  this  book,  the  subject  of  which  is  the 
prime  of  Florentine  art,  bears  Michael  Angelo's  name 
on  its  titlepage.  A  life  of  Raphael  or  Leonardo 
would  give  only  a  fragment  of  that  of  Michael  An- 
gelo. His  power  surpasses  theirs.  He  alone  par- 
ticipates in  the  general  work  of  the  people.  With 
all  his  works,  he  stands  forth  like  a  statue  offering 
itself  for  contemplation  on  all  sides ;  while  the  other 
two  appear  rather  like  magnificent  pictures,  exhibit- 
ing constantly  the  same  living  countenance,  but 
always  from  the  same  side. 

The  feeling  that  Michael  Angelo  stood  so  high 
gained  ground  early  in  his  lifetime,  not  in  Italy 
alone,  but  throughout  Europe.  German  nobles  came 


ITALY   AND   MICHAEL   ANGELO.  65 

to  Rome:  the  first  thing  they  desired  was  to  see 
Michael  Angelo.  Even  his  great  age  —  living  in  two 
centuries  —  added  to  his  celebrity.  Like  Goethe,  he 
enjoyed  in  his  old  age  the  immortality  of  his  youth. 
He  became  a  part  of  Italy.  Like  an  old  rock,  round 
which  we  make  our  way  in  the  sea,  without  staying 
to  think  why  it  lies  there  blocking  up  the  direct 
course,  they  respected  in  Rome  his  political  firmness. 
They  allowed  him  to  live  according  to  his  own  con- 
victions, and  desired  nothing  but  the  fame  of  his 
presence.  He  left  behind  him  a  vast  possession, 
bearing  his  name :  each  of  his  works  was  a  grain  of 
seed  from  which  countless  others  arose.  Indeed  the 
works  are  numberless  which  were  executed  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  after  the  model 
of  his.  As  the  thirteenth  century  and  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fourteenth  are  reflected  in  Dante,  so  the 
name  of  Michael  Angelo  embraces  those  which  follow ; 
and  as,  at  the  same  time  in  Germany,  Luther  gained 
a  similarly  extensive  influence,  —  in  an  entirely  dif 
ferent  manner,  it  is  true,  and  in  another  domain,  — 
the  life  of  Michael  Angelo  forms  a  contrast  to  that 
of  Luther,  exhibiting  the  difference  of  the  nations, 
in  the  midst  of  which  the  two  powerful  spirits  were 
at  work. 

Iii  this  way  Michael  Angelo  is  scarcely  known. 
We  feel  rather  instinctively  that  his  name  is  the 
symbol  of  a  vast  activity.  The  connection  of  his 
fate  with  that  of  his  country,  and  the  tenor  of  his 
works,  ha,s  not  as  yet  been  generally  perceived.  In 
this  respect  I  have  felt  that  to  attempt  a  description 
of  his  life  would  be  a  useful  work. 


66  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

We  possess  two  tolerably  bulky  biographies  ot 
Michaol  Angelo,  both  written  by  artists  who  call 
themselves  his  pupils,  and  both  printed  during  his 
lifetime.  The  one  is  by  Ascanio  Condivi,  who  lived 
in  his  house ;  the  other,  by  Giorgio  Vasari,  known  as 
a  painter,  architect,  and  man  of  letters  at  the  court 
of  the  Florentine  dukes.  A  book  written  by  him 
appeared  in  1550,  called  Biographies  of  the  most 
distinguished  painters,  sculptors,  and  architects. 
Michael  Angelo's  life  forms  the  close  of  the  first  and 
last  part. 

Difference  of  opinion  as  to  Yasari's  character  is 
scarcely  possible.  His  virtues  and  faults  are  too 
slightly  concealed.  He  was  court  painter,  court 
architect,  court  agent  in  matters  of  art;  whatever 
he  did,  he  did  with  regard  to  the  favor  of  his  lords 
and  masters,  of  whom  he  had  many.  Of  himself 
he  speaks  ingenuously,  as  of  a  master  standing  on 
a  level  with  the  first.  He  discusses  the  faults  of 
Michael  Angelo  and  other  painters,  in  a  tone  as  if  to 
intimate  that  he  had  derived  the  necessary  advan- 
tage from  the  knowledge  of  their  errors,  and  had 
avoided  them.  He  praises  his  own  works  with  a 
modesty  which  he  hopes  will  meet  with  acknowledg- 
ment, and  he  speaks  of  himself  and  all  his  doings  as 
of  some  estimable  third  person.  Those  who  oppose 
him,  or  personally  displease  him,  he  treats  badly 
without  ceremony,  somewhat  as  a  theatrical  critic 
would  treat  an  actor,  whom  he  wishes  to  show  that 
he  is  an  authority  not  to  be  trifled  with.  In  this  re- 
spect Yasari  allows  himself  to  act  most  tasely.  He 
has  cast  such  a  slur  over  painters  whom  he  did  not 


VASARI  —  CONDI  VI.  67 

like,  that  they  must  have  been  with  difficulty  re- 
stored to  honor.  No  reliance  can  be  placed  on  the 
accuracy  of  his  dates.  He  gives  false  dates,  and  at 
times  his  description  of  pictures  is  totally  opposed  to 
the  truth.  If  we  compare  his  statements  with  sure 
documents,  we  find  many  errors ;  if  we  still  possess 
and  can  refer  to  the  sources  which  he  made  use  of, 
we  perceive  that  he  omitted  or  added  as  he  liked. 

Nevertheless,  his  book  is  not  without  merit.  He 
wrote  for  the  most  part  upon  hearsay,  and  knew 
nothing  of  the  records  which  now  stand  at  our  dis- 
posal. He  and  his  century  lacked  the  taste  for 
critical  acumen  which  we  exercise  at  the  present 
day.  Still  his  book  remains  a  treasure  to  the  friend 
of  art.  Its  copiousness  seems  inexhaustible,  and  his 
style  is  clear  and  concise,  his  views  of  life  cheerful 
and  sensible  ;  and,  on  the  whole,  the  merits  of  Vasari 
may  be  said  to  outweigh  his  faults. 

It  is,  however,  just  to  his  censuring  nature  that 
we  are  indebted  for  much  of  our  information  respect- 
ing Michael  Angelo.  Vasari  sent  his  book  to  the  old 
master  when  it  wa$  printed,  who  answered  him  with 
a  sonnet,  in  which  the  most  complimentary  things 
were  expressed.  Another  answer,  however,  of  oppo- 
site purport,  appeared  in  the  publication  of  Condivi's 
work.  Condi vi  lived  in  close  proximity  with  his 
master.  Vasari,  although  he  liked  to  represent  it 
otherwise,  was  a  stranger  to  Michael  Angelo,  whose 
flattering  letter  was  intended  rather  for  the  court 
agent  than  for  the  artist.  That  Vasari  was  a  stran- 
ger to  the  great  man,  is  evident  in  nothing  so  much 
as  his  book ;  for  we  can  imagine  nothing  more  super- 


68  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

ficial,  more  false,  and  more  careless,  than  this  biog 
raphy  in  its  first  edition.  He  passes  over  important 
events,  represents  facts  falsely  in  themselves  and 
falsely  arranged,  shows  himself  especially  ignorant 
with  regard  to  the  period  of  Michael  Angelo's  youth, 
and,  for  want  of  significant  truth,  resorts  to  empty 
expressions  of  praise. 

Michael  Angelo  evidently  wished  to  inform  the 
world  of  a  more  truthful  work,  without  offending 
Vasari.  For  this  reason,  Condivi,  in  his  preface, 
did  not  once  mention  the  latter  by  name.  When  he 
denotes  him  indirectly,  since  this  was  not  to  be 
avoided,  he  makes  use  of  the  plural,  and  speaks  of 
several  doubtful  persons,  against  whom  he  has  some- 
what to  bring  forward. 

"  From  the  hour,"  says  Condivi  in  his  preface,  "  in 
which,  by  God's  especial  goodness,  I  was  deemed  worthy, 
not  only,  beyond  all  my  hopes,  to  behold  face  to  face  that 
unique  painter  and  sculptor,  Michael  Angelo  Buonarroti, 
but  to  share  his  affection,  his  daily  conversation,  and  life; 
conscious  of  my  great  happiness,  and  enthusiastic  for  my 
art,  and  grateful  for  the  kindness  with  which  he  treated 
me,  I  began  accurately  to  observe  and  to  collect  his  rules 
and  precepts.  What  he  said,  what  he  did,  how  he  lived,  — 
every  thing,  in  a  word,  which  seemed  to  me  worthy  of 
admiration,  emulation,  or  praise,  —  I  noted  down,  and  in- 
tended, at  a  convenient  time,  to  gather  together  in  a  book. 
I  wished  in  this  way  to  thank  hirf,  as  far  as  lay  in  my 
power,  for  that  which  he  had  done  for  me.  I  hoped,  more- 
over, to  give  pleasure  to  others  by  my  records,  in  setting 
forth  the  life  of  such  a  man  as  a  bright  and  useful  example 
to  them ;  for  every  one  knows  how  greatly  this  and  every 


CONDIVI.  69 

other  age  must  be  beholden  to  him  for  the  glory  which  his 
works  will  ever  shed  over  them.  In  order  to  feel  what  he 
has  done,  we  need  only  compare  it  with  what  others  have 
done. 

"  While  I  was  thus  collecting  my  materials,  part  of 
which  referred  to  the  outward  circumstances  of  his  life, 
and  part  to  works  of  art,  unforeseen  circumstances  obliged 
me,  not  only  to  accelerate  my  work,  but,  as  regards  the 
biography,  even  to  precipitate  it.  In  the  first  place,  some 
have  been  writing  about  this  rare  man  who  were  not,  I 
believe,  so  well  acquainted  with  him  as  I  am ;  thus  they 
have  asserted  things  which  are  purely  imaginary,  and 
entirely  omitted  many  important  circumstances.  Secondly, 
others,  to  whom  I  communicated  my  plans  in  confidence, 
have  appropriated  them  in  a  manner  which  evidences  the 
intention,  I  regret  to  say,  of  not  only  depriving  me  of  the 
fruits  of  my  labor,  but  also  of  the  honor  of  it.  Therefore, 
to  supply  the  defects  of  those  first-mentioned  authors,  and 
on  the  other  side  to  prevent  the  injustice  which  is  impend- 
ing from  the  last,  I  have  resolved  to  give  my  work  to  the 
public,  imperfect  as  it  is." 

Hereupon  follow  excuses  as  to  the  faulty  style, 
he  being  a  sculptor  and  no  writer  by  profession. 
Lastly,  the  promise  that  an  accurate  catalogue  of 
Michael  Angelo's  works  will  follow.  Unfortunately, 
no  trace  of  this  is  to  be  found.  We  do  not  even 
know  whether  it  was  really  written  or  published. 
The  "  some  "  and  the  "  others  "  of  whom  he  speaks 
seem  only  to  denote  Vasari. 

Condivi's  book  was  dedicated  to  the  pope,  who 
received  it  graciously,  and  personally  thanked  the 
author  for  it.  This  act  of  courtesy  was  indeed 


70  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

brought  about  by  Michael  Angelo.  Vasari  let  the 
matter  rest;  but,  after  Michael  Angelo's  death,  he 
avenged  himself  in  his  usual  style. 

He  published  a  new  edition  of  his  biographies, 
and  admitted  into  this,  Condivi's  work  in  its  full 
extent,  verbatim  sometimes,  and  sometimes  with 
words  arranged  intentionally  differently.  At  the 
same  time,  he  again  proceeded  so  carelessly  that  he 
did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  correct  the  false 
statements  to  be  found  in  his  first  edition,  but  inter- 
mingled these  roughly  with  those  of  Condivi,  so  that 
he  gives  double  information,  —  the  false  with  the 
true,  —  resulting  in  further  confusion  with  his  sub- 
sequent editors.  He  makes  no  mention  of  Condivi's 
name,  but  in  the  most  evident  manner  alludes  to 
him  as  a  liar  and  an  untrustworthy  man,  while  he 
has  himself  never  written  any  thing  but  the  purest 
truth.  No  one,  he  says,  possesses  so  many  and  such 
flattering  letters  from  Michael  Angelo's  own  hand, 
and  has  been  so  intimately  acquainted  with  him  as 
himself.  But,  he  says  at  the  close  of  his  biography, 
Michael  was  unfortunate  in  those  who  were  daily 
with  him.  And,  after  having  once  more  reverted  to 
his  own  modesty,  he  now  mentions  Condivi  as  a 
pupil  of  Michael  Angelo's.  There  is  not  a  syllable 
of  his  writing ;  he  only  says  that  he  produced  noth- 
ing of  his  own ;  that  the  master  had  assisted,  though 
that  assistance  was  in  vain  ;  that  Michael  Angelo 
had  expressed  to  him  —  that  is,  to  Vasari  —  his  pity 
for  the  fruitless  efforts  of  the  poor  devil. 

With  this,  however,  he  was  still  unsatisfied.  He 
attempts  to  surpass  as  far  as  possible  Condivi's  simple 


VASARI   COMPARED   WITH   CONDIVI.  71 

information.  He  now  knows  of  things,  which  before 
Condivi's  book  appeared  no  one  knew,  much  better 
than  he  from  whom  he  copies  them.  Whether,  in 
his  desire  to  excel  Condivi,  his  own  imagination  was 
alone  constantly  at  work,  is  a  question  which  re- 
mains open.  Vasari  certainly  liked  to  color  events 
by  little  episodes  of  his  own,  to  produce  a  more 
lively  effect;  and  much  may  have  thus  originated 
In  many  cases,  he,  however,  certainly  succeeded  in 
producing  what  wras  new,  and  in  creating  something 
of  his  own  upon  the  foundation  given  by  Condivi. 

At  all  events,  he  obtained  his  object.  He  had 
taken  his  rival's  work  entirely  into  his  own,  and  had 
rendered  it  superfluous.  He  was  the  famous  Vasari. 
Condivi's  book  fell  into  such  oblivion,  that,  in  the 
year  1747,  in  which  it  was  reprinted  for  the  first 
time,  hardly  a  copy  was  to  be  found.  Even  at  the 
present  day,  the  connection  of  the  two  authors  with 
each  other  is  uncertain  ;  and  the  latest  excellent 
Florentine  edition  of  Vasari  scarcely  recognizes  it, 
only  briefly  stating  that  Condivi  was  made  use  of  by 
Vasari  in  many  things,  and  his  words  are  quoted  be- 
low as  some  authority.  Condivi's  biography  ought 
rather  to  have  been  entirely  admitted  into  this 
edition ;  and  it  should  have  been  shown,  that  the  dif- 
ferences between  the  two  authors  are  to  be  explained 
for  the  most  part  by  the  fact  that  Vasari  tried  to 
give  Condivi's  words  another  turn  in  order  to  con- 
ceal the  plagiarism,  while  often  nothing  but  his  care- 
lessness is  blamed. 

Little  honorable  as  aro  the  causes  by  which  we 
possess  Vasari's  second  work  in  such  an  improved 


72  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

and  ample  form,  and  sad  as  is  the  fate  of  Condivi's, 
whose  end  was  also  tragic,  —  he  was  drowned  before 
being  able  to  provide  for  the  immortality  of  his  name 
as  an  artist,  —  both  works  are  of  great  value.  They 
contain  letters  which  Michael  Angelo  had  himself 
written ;  numerous  poems  by  his  hand,  notes  in  his 
journal,  contracts  and  public  records  which  refer  to 
him.  Dr.  Gaye,  a  Schleswig-Holsteiner,  who  studied 
in  Berlin,  and  then  went  to  Italy,  deserves  the  great- 
est merit  with  regard  to  them.  He  examined  the 
crowded  archives  of  Florence,  and  many  others  have 
followed  in  his  track.  Gaye  did  not  finish  his  work ; 
he  died  in  1840 ;  Herr  von  Reumond  edited  the 
third  part  of  the  book.  The  before-mentioned  last 
Florentine  edition  of  Yasari  offered  an  excellent 
compilation  of  the  material  which  had  become  known 
latterly;  whilst  the  edition  of  Condivi,  a  century 
older,  is  provided  also  with  good  notes  from  various 
authors.  Mr.  Harford's  Life  of  Michael  Angelo  — 
the  latest  work  on  Michael  Angelo  —  contains  some 
things  not  before  known. 

The  sources  from  which  the  history  of  the  times 
which  produced  Michael  Angelo  are  drawn  are 
numerous  enough.  Respecting  no  epoch  of  later 
history  have  contemporaries  written  so  powerfully 
and  so  well ;  but  they  are  sometimes  guilty  of 
giving  importance  and  weight  to  events  which,  re- 
corded by  an  inferior  pen,  would  scarcely  invito 
attention. 

Foremost  stand  the  works  of  Macchiavelli.  With 
an  impartial  clearness  —  which  is  so  great,  that,  even 
while  acknowledging  it,  we  are  inclined  to  doubt  it. 


GUTCCIARDINI.  73 

just  because  it  is  almost  carried  too  far  —  ho  gives 
an  account  of  the  slightest  convulsions  of  his  time. 
Writing  his  language  as  the  best  ancient  authors  did 
theirs,  conversant  with  the  political  ideas  of  the  cen- 
tury, he  gives  the  root  of  every  opinion.  A  few 
years  older  than  Michael  Angelo  (he  was  born  in 
1469,  three  centuries  before  Napoleon  and  Hum- 
boldt),  he  died  when  Michael  Angelo  had  not  com- 
pleted two-thirds  of  his  career.  Had  his  personal 
life  been  in  harmony  with  the  loftiness  of  his  mind, 
he  would  have  been,  next  to  Michael  Angelo,  the 
greatest  man  of  his  age  ;  but  we  shall  hear  why  only 
a  smaller  portion  of  this  fame  belongs  to  him. 

After  him  comes  Guicciardini,  more  vigorous  and 
powerful  in  character,  but  inferior  in  diction,  —  a 
man  who  never,  like  Macchiavelli,  in  a  subordinate 
position  or  in  compulsory  idleness,  found  leisure 
hours  for  reflection  and  study ;  but  who,  from  the 
early  part  to  the  close  of  his  life,  occupied  high 
posts.  He  knew,  perhaps,  more  of  men  and  circum- 
stances than  Macchiavelli ;  his  mind  could  grasp 
many  ideas  at  once,  while  that  of  the  latter  was  of  a 
contemplative  turn :  but  he  observed  more  super- 
ficially, and  did  not  fathom  character  with  Macchia- 
velli's  discernment,  which  was  quick  and  penetrat- 
ing. Whilst  Macchiavelli  recognizes  higher  laws  as 
the  propelling  power  of  all  that  happens,  Guicciar- 
dini refers  the  entanglement  of  events  to  the  evil 
passions  of  men.  He  knew  their  power,  and  had 
experienced  it  in  himself.  He,  too,  died  before 
Michael  Angelo.  His  violent  death  was  the  fruit  of 
his  own  ill-judged  ambition. 

4 


74  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   .LNGELO. 

Giovio,  on  the  other  hand,  a  dignitary  of  the 
Romish  Church,  had  grown  up  as  a  flatterer  at  the 
courts  of  the  popes,  acknowledging  that  he  threw  a 
cloak  over  things  for  the  sake  of  gain.  But  he  knew 
how  to  wear  the  garment  gracefully  ;  and,  initiated 
in  all  intrigues,  he  well  understood  in  what  light  to 
exhibit  the  situation  of  political  affairs.  We  possess 
from  his  pen,  as  small  appendages  to  his  tedious  his- 
torical writings,  two  short  biographies  of  Raphael 
and  Michael  Angelo,  composed  in  Latin,  and  of 
much  merit. 

Next,  Bcmbo,  —  in  his  old  age  a  cardinal,  in  his 
youth  an  ecclesiastical  adventurer,  and  a  lover  of 
Lucrezia  Borgia,  one  of  the  many  who  rejoiced  in 
her  favor,  —  standing  higher  than  Giovio,  but  cut 
from  the  same  block.  His  letters,  published  in 
many  volumes,  are  a  sample  of  the  mode  of  thought 
in  the  higher  circles,  and  a  specimen  of  that  later 
elegant  prose,  which,  adulatory  and  empty,  offers 
pleasant  wrords  to  both  eye  and  ear,  concealing 
its  coldness  by  fervor  of  style.  Like  Giovio,  he 
cringed  to  the  nobles,  till,  from  their  servant,  he 
became  their  confidant,  friend,  and  at  length  their 
equal. 

Nardi,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  Florentine  democrat, 
of  good  family,  writing  in  exile  the  history  of  his 
native  city.  Mild,  discreet,  not  over-hasty  in  judg- 
ment, he  was  passionate  against  the  enemies  of  lib- 
erty, the  loss  of  which  had  cost  him  too  dearly.  He 
writes  for  Florentines,  who,  like  himself,  living  in 
the  midst  of  the  politics  of  the  city,  were  acquainted 
with  affairs  from  the  beginning. 


NERLI VARCHI.  To 

Nerli,  on  the  other  hand,  had  long  foreseen  the 
annihilation  of  liberty.  He  drew  his  conclusions 
from  the  quiet  order  of  things  under  the  grand- 
duke.  He  stigmatizes  uproar  and  revolution  in 
themselves,  yet  he  acknowledged  the  liberty  of  the 
past.  It  was  well  for  him,  and  for  others  of  his 
time,  that  the  grand-dukes  belonged  to  a  line  of  the 
Medici,  who  had  been  oppressed  and  ill-treated  by 
the  other  branch  of  the  family,  from  which  the  two 
popes  and  the  oppressors  of  freedom  sprung.  It 
seemed,  in  consequence,  less  inexcusable  to  speak  of 
these  people  without  regard,  and  thus  to  appear  on 
the  side  of  that  ancient  liberty,  which,  however,  was 
never  restored. 

The  last  struggles  for  this  liberty  are  described  by 
Segni  in  a  book,  the  existence  of  which  no  one  sur- 
mised at  the  time  it  was  written.  He  writes  freely, 
accurately,  and  in  a  polished  style,  but  not  so  dis- 
tinctly and  forcibly  as  Nardi  and  Guicciardini. 

Varchi's  book  also  remained  imprinted,  although 
compiled  by  order  of  the  grand-duke.  Permission 
for  publishing  it  was  never  granted  him.  Varchi 
was  an  associate  of  Vasari's,  the  first  man  of  letters 
at  the  court,  and  foremost  in  that  Florentine  life 
which  had  become  accustomed  to  the  new  dynasty. 
Varchi  delivered  Michael  Angelo's  funeral  oration. 
Be  also  speaks  with  enthusiasm  of  the  old  independ- 
ence, and  bewails  its  decline :  but  his  are  the  lamen- 
tations of  an  historian ;  and,  enthusiastically  as  he 
mentions  the  old  free  Florence,  the  new  Florence,  in 
which  he  himself  occupies  so  high  a  position,  is  not 
alluded  to.  He  has  collected  only  vrhat  he  could 


76  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

scrape  together  respecting  the  period  of  1530 ;  but 
he  did  not  understand  how  to  absorb  the  matter  in 
his  own  mind,  and  to  write  freely  from  himself. 

How  little  he  availed  himself  of  the  material 
standing  at  his  disposal,  is  shown  by  Busini's  letters 
to  Mm,  who,  living  in  Rome  in  exile,  gave,  at  Var- 
chi's  request,  free  vent  to  his  remembrances  of  the 
years  1527  to  1531,  in  a  series  of  confidential  let- 
ters. These  are  the  most  singular  and  careless 
expression  of  the  Florentine  mind.  With  bitter  vio- 
lence he  gossips  over  events  and  men.  A  democrat 
of  good  family,  proud,  but  resting  in  the  indiffer- 
ence which  the  lapse  of  years  had  induced,  Busini 
abandoned  himself  in  Rome  to  that  ironical  apathy 
to  political  events,  with  which  Michael  Angelo  also 
in  his  last  years  sacrificed  his  hopes.  The  times 
seemed  then  to  have  passed  away  for  ever,  in  which 
free  citizens  might  venture  to  indulge  a  powerful 
interest  in  the  destinies  of  their  country. 

Next  to  these  may  be  mentioned  some  of  the 
reports  of  the  Venetian  ambassadors,  writings  ad- 
vocating often  the  partial  view  of  an  individual, 
business-like  and  passionless,  and  only  written  for 
the  use  of  the  Republic  of  San  Marco. 

Then  come  two  utterances  of  the  human  mind,  a 
greater  contrast  between  which  could  not  be  im- 
agined,—  the  writings  and  sermons  of  Savonarola, 
and  the  diaries  of  Burcardo  and  Paris  dei  Grassi, 
both  popish  masters  of  ceremonies.  In  the  one,  we 
see  the  height  of  religious  enthusiasm ;  in  the  other, 
questions  of  the  ceremonial,  and  the  most  secret 
occurrences  of  the  Vatican.  In  the  one,  the  trans- 


MICHAEL   ANGELO'S   LETTERS.  77 

porting  heroic  eloquence  of  a  nature,  hastening  for- 
ward at  full  speed  to  a  violent  catastrophe ;  in  the 
other,  only  an  eye  fixed  on  stiff  Chinese  externals,  in 
the  earnest  contemplation  of  which  the  soul  becomes 
slowly  petrified. 

Added  to  these,  we  have,  lastly,  a  series  of  dry 
chronicles  and  records,  and  multitudes  of  books  of 
all  kinds,  which  were  published  at  the  time.  All 
contain  something.  It  is  impossible  to  exhaust  these 
sources.  We  must  content  ourselves  with  knowing 
accurately  the  report  of  those  eye-witnesses  of  the 
time,  whose  intellect  rendered  them  conspicuously 
distinguishable. 

These  were  my  resources  in  undertaking  to  write 
the  life  of  Michael  Angelo.  It  was  known  that  the 
archives  of  the  Buonarroti  family  contained  numer- 
ous letters  and  documents  of  every  kind ;  but  it  was 
at  the  same  time  known  that  it  was  impossible  to 
gain  access  to  these  papers.  In  the  year  1860  the 
last  Buonarroti  died.  He  bequeathed  his  archives 
to  the  city  of  Florence.  A  committee  published  a 
catalogue  of  the  existing  papers.  It  was  a  natural 
supposition  that  they  would  now  be  open  for  use ;  but 
a  fresh  impediment  arose :  Count  Buonarroti  had 
made  the  acceptance  of  his  legacy  dependent  on  the 
obligation  to  preserve  continued  secrecy,  and  to  com- 
municate to  no  one  the  slightest  thing ;  and  thus  it 
seemed,  that,  under  existing  circumstances,  it  was 
not  possible  to  continue  the  work. 

Fortunately,  however,  the  whole  contents  of  the 
Buonarroti  bequest  were  not  doomed  to  this  seclu- 
sion. A  part  of  the  heritage  came  by  purchase  into 


78  LTFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  possession  of  the  British  Museum.  Here,  of 
course,  there  stood  no  hindrance  to  the  use  of  it ; 
and  I  came  to  a  knowledge  of  three  extensive  cor- 
respondences, as  well  as  a. number  of  other  docu- 
ments, all  in  a  state  of  excellent  preservation,  and 
lying  plainly  before  me  in  the  careful  handwriting 
of  Michael  Angelo,  legible  as  the  pages  of  a  printed 
book. 

A  hundred  and  fifty  letters  were  thus  made  known 
to  me,  whilst  two  hundred  still  lay  hidden  in  Flor- 
ence. At  all  events,  the  London  correspondence 
seemed  more  full  than  the  Florentine ;  for  no  one 
stood  nearer  to  Michael  Angelo  than  his  father  and 
brother  Buonarroti,  and  these  are  the  letters  in  the 
possession  of  the  British  Museum.  The  Florentine 
papers  undoubtedly  contained  important  matters, 
the  knowledge  of  which  would  spread  light  over 
much  that  had  been  hitherto  dark.  What  has,  how- 
ever, induced  me  to  feel  less  vexation  at  this  loss,  is 
an  observation  which  I  will  repeat  here,  as  I  have 
expressed  it  before  in  the  second  volume  of  this  book 
in  the  first  edition. 

The  more  I  advanced  in  my  researches  for  the 
biography  of  Michael  Angelo,  the  more  numerous 
were  the  threads  I  discovered,  emanating  from  this 
one  man  on  all  sides,  or  which,  proceeding  from  the 
men  of  his  age,  were  united  in  him.  Not  that  his 
immediate  influence  was  pre-eminent ;  but  the  con- 
nection of  his  progress  with  that  which  took  place 
around  him  was  evident.  More  and  more  plainly  I 
felt  the  necessity  of  becoming  acquainted  with  every 
thing  which  happened  while  he  lived,  that  I  might 


MICHAEL   ANGELO'S   LETTERS.  79 

approach  nearer  to  himself.  I  have  been  reproached 
with  having  called  my  book  "  The  Life  of  Michael 
Angelo,"  when  I  ought  to  have  entitled  it  "  Michael 
Angelo  and  his  Times."  But  in  truth  they  were 
one,  —  he  and  the  events  which  he  witnessed.  The 
more  elevated  is  the  mind  of  a  man,  the  more  exten- 
sive is  the  circle  which  meets  his  eye ;  and  whatever 
meets  his  eye  becomes  a  part  of  his  being.  And 
thus,  the  further  I  advanced,  the  more  imperfect 
appeared  my  acquaintance  with  the  things  I  was 
considering.  For,  when  I  had  at  length  grasped  an 
idea  of  them  on  one  side,  it  became  evident  to  me, 
at  the  same  time,  from  how  many  others  I  had  yet 
to  view  them,  in  order  to  form  an  impartial  judg- 
ment. 

The  insight  into  Michael  Angelo' s  private  rela- 
tions, which  was  to  be  obtained  for  the  most  part  from 
his  written  remains,  was  thus  only  a  small  part  of 
what  was  wanting.  A  far  greater  want  was  the 
limited  time  which  I  was  able  to  devote  in  Italy  to 
the  examination  of  his  works.  A  continued  resi- 
dence in  Rome  and  Florence ;  a  more  accurate 
knowledge  of  the  European  museums  ;  a  deeper 
study  of  the  history  of  Tuscany,  as  well  as  of  all  the 
political  events  which  fill  the  sixteenth  century, — 
seemed  necessary.  In  one  word,  to  write  a  life  of 
Michael  Angelo,  as  it  might  be  written,  presupposes 
a  life  of  study,  knowledge,  and  experience,  which 
the  years  I  have  attained  to  would  not  allow  me  to 
acquire. 

What,  therefore,  would  have  deterred  me  from 
carrying  my  work  on,  was  far  rather  such  rcflec- 


80  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

tions  as  these,  than  the  non-possession  of  the  Flor- 
entine papers.  They  could  not  contain  any  thing 
more  important  than  the  works  which  were  open  to 
me,  or  the  great  events  in  which  Michael  Augelo 
had  taken  a  part,  and  respecting  which  other  sources 
lay  open  in  fruitful  abundance.  The  greatest  de- 
pendence was  to  be  placed  on  these.  The  London 
correspondence  furnishes  a  number  of  new  dates  for 
the  origin  of  Michael  Angelo's  works,  and  gives  in- 
formation on  family  circumstances,  about  which  pos- 
sibly no  one  knew  in  his  lifetime.  And  yet  those 
knew  him  best  who  lived  with  him,  and  these  were 
without  the  knowledge  of  these  circumstances.  It 
is  just  the  same  with  Goethe.  We  can  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  as  regards  many  of  his  works,  state  almost 
the  exact  time  when  he  first  wrote  them,  laid  them 
aside,  took  them  up  again,  and  completed  them. 
We  are  almost  better  informed  about  them  than  he 
was  himself,  if  we  compare  the  contents  of  many  let- 
ters with  his  autobiography.  But  of  what  avail  is 
this  knowledge  ?  Would  all  the  notices  as  to  the 
origin  of  Iphigenia  outweigh  a  dozen  verses,  if  we 
had  to  dispense  with  them  in  the  poem  ?  An  artist, 
as  the  creator  of  his  works,  leads  a  higher  life  than 
his  lower  earthly  fate  exhibits  to  us ;  these  produc- 
tions of  his  mind,  to  which  we  cannot  rise,  spring 
forth  in  a  mysterious  atmosphere.  It  would  be  a 
vain  undertaking  to  endeavor  to  form  the  results  of 
our  researches  into  a  ladder  thitherward.  And  so, 
if  with  a  man  like  Goethe,  who  has  hardly  passed 
away,  who  almost  still  breathes  the  air  in  which  we 
live,  and  ten  letters  of  whom  we  could  produce 


THE   BUONAKOTTI.  81 

where  only  one  of  Michael  Angelo's  is  extant,  —  if 
with  Goethe,  after  all,  we  require  not  his  letters,  but 
a  knowledge  of  the  period,  and  the  profoundest  un- 
derstanding of  his  poems,  to  feel  what  he  was,  —  this 
is  to  the  utmost  extent  the  case  with  Michael  An- 
gelo,  whose  profession  was  not  writing,  who  for  the 
most  part  in  his  letters  is  influenced  by  the  person 
to  whom  he  addresses  them,  and  rarely  exhibits  his 
heart  in  them  as  he  does  in  his  works,  his  actions,  or 
even  his  poems.  These  letters  contain  little  of  the 
course  of  time,  of  sorrow  for  his  failures,  of  hope 
for  the  future.  Special  points  of  his  character, 
scarcely  surmised  without  them,  are  more  manifest 
in  them,  though  not  for  the  most  part  in  connection 
with  events  of  any  importance.  His  letters  furnish 
much ;  they  are,  when  once  we  know  them,  a  part 
of  him  which  from  henceforth  we  cannot  do  with- 
out :  and  still,  if  we  possessed  nothing  else  but  his 
works,  Condi vi's  biography,  and  the  history  of  Flor- 
ence and  Rome,  —  from  the  marble  which  these  sup- 
ply, the  form  of  the  man  might  be  sculptured  as  he 
was ;  and  all  in  addition  to  this  are  only  helps  to 
finish  and  to  elaborate  the  portrait,  without  altering 
a  feature  of  the  original  design. 

3. 

In  the  year  1250,  Simone  Canossa,  the  ancestor 
of  the  Buonarroti,  is  said  to  have  come  as  a  stranger 
to  Florence,  and,  for  the  signal  services  rendered  by 
him,  to  have  obtained  the  freedom  of  the  city. 
From  a  Ghibelline  he  had  become  a  Guelf,  and  had 
therefore  changed  his  arms  from  a  dog  argent,  with 


82  LIFE    OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

a  bone  in  his  mouth,  in  a  field  gules,  to  a  dog  or, 
in  a  field  azure.  Added  to  this,  he  received  from 
the  lords  of  the  city  five  lilies  gules,  and  a  crest  with 
two  bull's  horns,  —  one  or,  the  other  azure.  So  says 
Condivi. 

In  the  v"ins  of  the  Simoni,  however,  who  were 
descended  from  the  counts  of  Canossa,  there  flowed 
imperial  blood,  he  writes  further.  Beatrice,  the  sis- 
ter of  the  emperor  Henry  II.,  was  the  ancestress  of 
the  family.  The  arms  just  described  are  still  to  be 
seen  in  the  palace  of  the  podesta  of  Florence,  where 
Simone  Canossa  had  them  sculptured  in  marble,  like 
those  of  the  other  podestas  of  the  city.  Hence  arose 
the  family  name  Buonarroti,  being  the  usual  Chris- 
tian name  of  the  family.  Each  individual  always 
bore  it  as  such.  It  had  thus  become  a  characteristic 
of  the  house,  and  had  at  length  crept  into  the  roll  of 
citizens  instead  of  the  name  Canossa. 

We  may  assume  that  Condivi  received  these  com- 
munications from  his  old  master,  and  that  the  latter 
believed,  in  consequence,  in  the  imperial  blood  in 
his  veins.  The  Buonarotti  held  fast  to  this  tradition. 
Florentine  historians  have,  nevertheless,  been  unable 
to  discover  any  Simone  Canossa  who  was  podesta  of 
the  city  in  1250.*  Even  in  the  family  notices  of  the 
Count  of  Canossa,  no  such  personage  is  mentioned. 
Still  less  do  the  arms  of  Canossa  agree  with  those 
which  Condivi  describes,  or  with  those  of  the  Buon- 
arotti.  They  consisted  of  two  transoms  or,  in  a  field 
azure,  with  no  trace  of  the  dog  or,  with  a  bone  in 
his  mouth. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  HI. 


THE    BUONAKOTTI.  83 

The  dog  gives,  perhaps,  the  key  to  the  explanation 
of  how  the  fable  arose.  The  middle  ages  had  their 
own  manner  of  explaining  words  symbolically.  The 
dog,  canis,  with  the  bone,  os,  in  his  mouth,  becomes 
Canossa,  in  the  same  way  as  the  "  dogs  of  the  Lord," 
domini  canes,  became  Dominicans.  More  important, 
however,  than  the  exact  explanation  of  the  legend, 
is  the  circumstance  that  the  old  citizen,  Michael 
Angelo,  that  arch-Guelf,  begins  his  biography,  in 
spite  of  it  all,  with  a  declaration,  by  which  he  boasts 
of  his  descent  from  the  old  Ghibelline  nobles ;  and, 
as  a  letter  still  extant  from  a  Canossa  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  sixteenth  century  proves,  the  count's 
family  acknowledged  the  relationship.* 

The  Buonarotti,  or,  as  they  designated  themselves, 
the  Buonarotti  Simoni,  were  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished Florentine  families.  Their  name  is  often 
found  in  connection  with  offices  in  the  State.  In 
1456,  Michael  Angelo's  grandfather  had  a  place  in 
the  Signiory ;  and,  in  1473,  his  father  was  a  member 
of  the  Buonuomini,  a  committee  consisting  of  twelve 
citizens,  who  took  part  in  the  deliberations  of  the 
Signiory.  In  1474  he  was  appointed  podesta  or 
governor  of  Chiusi  and  Caprese,  two  little  fortified 
cities  in  the  valley  of  the  Singarna,  a  small  stream 
which  empties  itself  into  the  Tiber.  The  Tiber  takes 
its  rise  in  this  region,  and  is  itself  an  insignificant 
river  where  it  joins  the  Singarna.  The  land  is 
mountainous. 

Michael  Angelo's  father,  Ludovico  by  name,  re- 
paired from  Florence  to  his  post.  His  wife,  Fran- 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  IV. 


84  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

cesca,  also  of  a  good  family,  was  expecting  the  birth 
of  an  infant ;  but  this  did  not  prevent  her  from 
accompanying  her  husband  on  horseback.  This 
ride  might  have  been  dangerous  to  her  and  to  the 
child;  she  fell  with  the  animal,  and  was  dragged 
along  the  ground.  Yet  it  did  her  no  harm :  on  the 
6th  March,  1475,  two  hours  after  midnight,  she 
brought  a  boy  into  the  world,  who  received  the  name 
of  Michael  Agnolo.  This  is  the  true  orthography, 
instead  of  the  more  usual  Michael  Angelo.  He  was 
the  second  child  of  his  mother,  who  was  nineteen 
years  old  at  his  birth,  while  Ludovico  was  in  his 
thirty-first  year.  Ludovico's  father  was  no  longer 
alive  ;  but  his  mother,  Mona  Lesandra  (so  well 
known  as  Madonna  Alessandra),  was  still  living,  a 
woman  of  sixty-six  years  old. 

In  1476,  on  the  expiration  of  his  official  situation, 
Ludovico  returned  home.  The  little  Michael  Angelo 
was  left  behind  at  Settignano,  three  miles  from  Flor- 
ence, where  the  Buonarotti  had  an  estate.  The 
child  was  entrusted  to  a  nurse,  the  wife  of  a  stone- 
mason. Settignano  lies  in  the  mountains.  Michael 
Angelo  used  to  say  in  jest,  in  after-years,  it  was  no 
wonder  that  he  had  such  love  for  his  profession, 
since  he  had  imbibed  it  with  his  nurse's  milk.  In 
the  last  century,  the  first  paintings  of  the  boy,  on  the 
walls  of  the  house  in  which  he  grew  up,  were  still 
shown  there,  just  as  on  the  ground-floor  of  his  fa- 
ther's house  at  Florence  the  progress  of  these  efforts 
was  to  be  seen.  He  began  to  draw  as  soon  as  he 
could  use  his  hands. 

The  family  increased      Michael  Angelo's  brothers 


DOMENICO    GRILLANDAJO.  85 

were  to  be  merchants,  the  usual  and  natural  career 
in  Florence  ;  he  was  himself  destined  to  be  a  scholar, 
and  was  admitted  into  the  school  of  Francesco 
d'Urbino,  who  kept  a  grammar-school  in  Florence. 
He,  however,  profited  but  little  there.  He  em- 
ployed all  his  time  in  drawing,  and  idled  about  in 
the  ateliers  of  the  different  painters. 

In  this  way,  he  became  acquainted  with  Francesco 
Granacci,  a  noble  youth,  full  of  talent,  who,  five 
years  older  than  himself,  became  his  most  intimate 
friend.  Granaccio  was  a  pupil  of  Domenico  Ghir- 
landajo,  or,  as  it  is  pronounced  in  Florence,  Gril- 
landajo.  Michael  Angelo  could  no  longer  be  kept 
to  his  studies :  he  had  only  painting  in  his  thoughts. 
His  father  and  uncles,  proud  men,  who  knew  well 
how  to  estimate  the  difference  between  trade  and 
painting,  which,  being  a  less  esteemed  profession, 
held  out  but  small  advantages,  remonstrated  with 
him,  and  treated  him  harshly.  Michael  Angelo 
remained  steadfast.  On  the  1st  of  April,  1488, 
Ludovico  signed  the  contract,  by  virtue  of  which  his 
son  was  articled  to  the  masters  Domenico  and  David 
Grillandaji  for  three  years.  During  this  time,  he 
was  to  learn  drawing  and  painting,  and  to  do  what- 
ever he  was  desired  besides.  There  was  no  mention 
of  premium;  the  masters,  on  the  contrary,  bound 
themselves  to  pay  him  six  gold  florins  for  the  first 
year,  eight  for  the  second,  and  ten  for  the  third. 
Michael  Angelo  was  fourteen  years  old  when  he 
thus,  for  the  first  time,  carried  his  point. 

Domenico  stood  at  the  head  of  the  atelier,  and 
belonged  to  the  best  masters  of  the  city.  He  had 


86  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

at  that  time  undertaken  an  extensive  work.  The 
choir  of  the  Church  Santa  Maria  Novella  was  to  be 
newly  painted.  Orgagna,  the  builder  of  the  public 
hall  next  to  the  palace  of  the  Government,  the  so- 
called  Loggia  dei  Lanzi,  had  painted  this  choir  in 
Giotto's  manner.  The  roof  had  been  injured,  the 
rain  had  run  down  the  walls,  and  the  painting  had 
been  gradually  destroyed.  The  Ricci  family,  to 
whom,  as  possessors  of  this  choir,  its  preservation 
belonged,  delayed  its  restoration  on  account  of  the 
great  expense.  Every  family  of  importance  possessed 
in  this  manner  a  chapel  in  one  of  the  city  churches, 
in  which  they  interred  their  relatives,  and  the  decor- 
ation of  which  was  an  affair  of  honor.  As  the  Ricci 
did  not  give  up  their  claims,  and  would  not  concede 
to  others  the  repair  of  the  injured  walls,  the  matter 
remained  for  a  long  time  in  its  old  state.  Orgagna's 
paintings  fell  into  a  more  and  more  critical  condi- 
tion. At  length,  the  Tornabuoni,  one  of  the  richest 
families  in  the  city,  made  the  proposal,  that,  if  they 
would  commit  to  them  the  renovation  of  the  chapel, 
they  would  not  only  bear  all  the  expense,  but  would 
even  splendidly  restore  the  arms  of  the  Ricci.  To 
this  they  acceded.  The  work  was  given,  by  agree- 
ment, to  Grillandajo.  The  master  stated  his  demand 
at  1200  gold  florins,  with  an  extra  compensation  of 
200,  if  the  work,  when  completed,  should  prove 
especially  satisfactory  to  those  who  had  given  him 
the  order.  It  was  undertaken  in  the  year  1485. 

The  chapel  is  a  quadrangular  vaulted  space,  open 
towards  the  nave  of  the  church ;  separated  from  it, 
however,  by  the  high  altar,  behind  which  it  lies,  and 


DOMENICO    GRILLANDAJO.  87 

which  is  raised  to  a  considerable  elevation.  The 
back  wall  is  broken  up  by  windows ;  the  painting, 
therefore,  concerned  only  the  two  walls  to  the  left 
and  right  of  the  entrance.  These,  divided  into  long 
strip-like  partitions,  were  to  be  filled  from  top  to 
bottom  with  compositions.  They  are  representations 
of  biblical  events.  That 'is  to  say,  the  names  of  the 
different  pictures  are  so  called ;  but  in  truth  we  are 
looking  at  groups  of  known  and  unknown  Florentine 
beauties  and  celebrities,  men,  women,  and  their  chil- 
dren, placed  together  just  as  circumstances  demand- 
ed, in  the  costume  of  the  period,  and  in  a  manner  as 
if  that  which  the  picture  signified  had  occurred  a  few 
days  before  in  the  streets  of  Florence,  or  in  one  of 
its  most  well-known  houses.  We  find  this  manner 
of  conceiving  the  sacred  writings  unhistorically, 
usual  wherever  art  has  developed  itself  naturally 
and  vigorously.  Rembrandt  makes  Mary  sit  in  a 
stable,  representing  a  Dutch  cow-house  of  his  time ; 
while  Raphael  gives  her  accommodation  in  old  Ro- 
man walls,  such  as  he  daily  passed  by. 

Vasari's  work  cannot  be  too  highly  estimated  for 
Florence  as  regards  these  paintings.  "When  he 
wrote,  these  persons  were  still  known  in  the  city. 
We  recognize  there  all  the  Tornabuoni,  from  the 
oldest  members  of  the  family  down  to  the  youngest ; 
we  find  the  Medici,  and  in  their  train  the  learned 
friends  of  the  family,  —  Marsilio  Ficino,  the  Platonic 
philosopher,  who  had  been  brought  up  by  the  old 
Cosmo  ;  Angelo  Poliziano,  who  was  poet,  philologist, 
and  tutor  to  Lorenzo  dei  Medici's  children  ;  and 
other  famous  names.  Among  the  women  who  are 


88  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

present  at  the  meeting  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth,  there 
is  the  charming  Ginevra  dei  Benci,  at  that  time  the 
most  beautiful  woman  in  Florence ;  around  the  bed 
of  the  holy  Anna  appear  other  Florentine  ladies  who 
visit  the  sick  woman,  all  in  full  state,  —  one  among 
them  with  fruits  and  wine,  which  she  brings  as  a 
present,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  period. 
Again,  in  another  representation,  Domenico  has 
painted  himself  and  his  brothers. 

We  thus  meet  with  the  Medici  family  in  many 
places.  There  is  a  picture  in  the  Camposanto  at 
Pisa,  where  the  old  Cosmo  (or  Chosimo,  as  the 
Florentines  pronounce  and  write  it)  with  his  family, 
and  the  same  train  of  scholars,  represents  King 
Nimrod,  who  built  the  tower  of  Babel.  We  see 
Babylon  in  the  background ;  it  is  finished  to  the 
most  accurate  architectural  details,  and  is  very  in- 
geniously composed  of  the  buildings  of  Rome  and 
the  city  of  Florence. 

Thus  Michael  Angelo  came  at  once  into  the  midst 
of  a  great  work.  One  day,  when  the  masters  had 
gone  away,  he  drew  the  scaffolding  with  all  that 
belonged  to  it,  and  with  those  working  on  it,  so  per- 
fectly correctly,  that  Domenico,  when  he  saw  the 
paper,  exclaimed,  full  of  astonishment,  "  He  under- 
stands more  than  I  do  myself."  His  progress  soon 
appeared  so  great,  that  admiration  was  turned  into 
envy.  Grillandajo  became  anxious.  That  jealousy 
seized  him,  which  has  appeared  on  too  many  similar 
occasions  to  excite  surprise  in  this  instance. 

Michael  Angelo  painted  his  first  picture.  From 
the  constant  intercourse  of  the  Florentines  with 


MICHAEL   ANGELO'S   FIRST   PAINTING.  89 

Germany,  it  was  natural  that  German  pictures  and 
engravings  should  have  reached  Italy.  A  plate  of 
Martin  Schongauer's,  representing  the  temptation 
of  St.  Antony,  was  copied  and  painted  by  Michael 
Angelo  on  an  enlarged  scale.  This  picture  is  said  to 
be  still  extant  in  the  gallery  of  the  Bianconi  family 
at  Bologna.  According  to  the  report  of  others,  it  is 
in  the  possession  of  the  sculptor,  M.  de  Triqueti,  at 
Paris,  without  its  being  said  how  it  came  into  his 
hands.*  Schongauer's  plate  is  well  known.  Con- 
sidered as  a  composition,  it  is  at  all  events  his  most 
important  work,  and  is  designed  with  an  imagination 
which  matches  the  wildest  Netherland  works  of  a 
similar  kind.  A  band  of  distorted  monsters  have 
carried  St.  Antony  into  the  air.  We  see  nothing  of 
the  earth  but  a  bit  of  rocky  stone  below,  in  the 
corner  of  the  picture.  Eight  devils  have  taken  the 
poor  anchorite,  and  torment  him.  One  pulls  his 
hair ;  a  second  pulls  his  garment  in  front ;  a  third 
seizes  the  book  hanging  from  a  pocket  buttoned  to 
his  girdle  ;  a  fourth  snatches  the  stick  from  his 
hand ;  a  fifth  helps  the  fourth ;  the  others  pinch  and 
teaze  wherever  there  is  space  to  seize  him :  and  at  the 
same  time  the  strange  rabble  roll  and  turil  over  him, 
against  him,  and  under  him,  in  the  most  impossible 
writhings.  The  entire  animal  kingdom  is  ransacked 
to  compose  the  figures.  Claws,  scales,  horns,  tails, 
talons,  —  whatever  belongs  to  animals, — is  exhibited 
in  these  eight  devils.  The  fishy  nature,  however, 
predominates  ;  and,  that  he  might  not  err  here, 
Michael  Angelo  eagerly  studied  the  goods  exposed 

*  See  Appendix,  Nc  te  V. 


90  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

to  view  iii  the  fish-market.  He  thus  accom}  dished 
au  excellent  picture.  Grillandajo  called  it,  hoAvever, 
one  produced  in  his  atelier ;  or  he  even  named  him- 
self as  the  designer  of  it,  as  he  was  authorized  to 
do  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time.*  On  the 
other  hand,  however,  Michael  Angelo  now  most 
plainly  showed  that  he  understood  more  than  his 
master. 

Grillandajo  made  his  pupils  copy  for  practice  the 
studies  which  he  had  himself  incidentally  drawn. 
Michael  Angelo  took  one  of  these  drawings  from  a 
fellow  pupil ;  and,  making  his  own  thick  strokes  by 
the  side  of  his  master's  lines,  he  corrected  their 
defects,  and  this  in  a  manner  to  which  no  objection 
could  be  offered.  Grillandajo  now  refused  him  the 
plates  when  he  asked  for  them.  This  also  can  be 
easily  understood.  It  was  time  that  an  end  should 
be  put  to  the  connection ;  and  this  occurred  before 
the  expiration  of  the  three  years  of  the  contract,  in 
a  manner  which  could  scarcely  be  more  favorable  for 
Michael  Angelo.  He  became  acquainted  with  Lo- 
renzo dei  Medici,  Cosmo's  grandson,  who  about  this 
time  was  at  the  head  of  the  Government  in  Flor- 
ence. 

4. 

Florence,  considered  as  a  State,  consisted  of  an 
association  of  commercial  houses,  the  first  of  which 
was  that  of  the  Medici.  The  position  of  the  others 
was  subordinate.  The  government  of  the  city  lay 
more  securely  in  the  hands  of  Cosmo,  retaining  as 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  VI. 


COSMO.  91 

he  still  did  the  appearance  of  an  uninterested  retired 
citizen,  than  if  he  had  assumed  the  position  of  a 
prince,  with  the  title  of  sovereign  of  Florence. 
Piero,  his  son,  ruled  after  him.  That  he  did  so,  was 
as  much  a  matter  of  course  as  his  inheriting  the 
business.  Physically  and  mentally  a  weaker  nature, 
bearing  the  surname  of  the  "  paralytic,"  he  yet  re- 
mained all  his  life  at  the  head  of  the  State ;  and, 
after  his  death,  Ms  two  sons,  Lorenzo  and  Giuliano, 
entered  upon  the  same  position,  —  the  change  of 
proprietor  causing  no  interruption  in  the  business 
of  the  house. 

At  home  the  Medici  were  plain  merchants ;  abroad 
they  assumed  another  tone.  Cosmo  had  been  sent 
into  exile.  He  appeared  like  a  prince  in  Venice, 
whither  he  turned  his  steps ;  the  Florentines  soon 
observed  that  he  had  taken  Florence  away  with  him, 
and  they  fetched  him  back.  He  was  now  dictator ; 
but  he  only  interfered  publicly  in  matters  which 
were  not  affairs  of  State.  He  called  together  the 
learned,  he  built  churches  and  monasteries,  he 
founded  valuable  libraries,  he  bound  every  one  to 
himself  by  voluntary  loans.  In  political  things,  his 
friends  were  obliged  to  come  forward.  "We  need 
only  look  at  his  countenance,  which  has  been  trans- 
mitted to  us  in  numerous  portraits  representing 
every  stage  of  life.  Eyebrows  elevated  on  the  deli 
cately  wrinkled  brow,  a  long  nose  with  the  somewhat 
fuller  tip  turned  down,  a  mouth  with  the  delicate 
lips  meditatively  compressed,  a  firm,  energetic  chin, 
—  presenting  an  appearance,  on  the  whole,  in  which 
we  seeni  to  behold  embodied  wisdom. 


92  '   LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Piero,  his  successor,  committed  errors,  but  held , 
his  ground  against  all  aggressions,  a  proof  that  the 
party  of  the  Medici  was  strong  enough  to  maintain 
its  position  in  the  Government  under  a  less  superior 
direction.  Lorenzo,  on  the  other  hand,  trod  in  the 
footsteps  of  his  grandfather,  and  raised  his  personal 
position  considerably.  The  struggles  amidst  which 
he  rose  were  vehement  and  perilous.  They  cost 
his  brother  Giuliano  his  life.  They  show  what 
courage  it  required  to  stand  at  the  head  of  a  State 
like  Florence. 

The  death  of  Giuliano  occurred  in  the  year  1478. 
Michael  Angelo  was  at  that  time  two  years  old,  and 
was  still  at  Settignano ;  the  conspiracy  of  the  Pazzi, 
which  broke  out  with  this  murder,  cannot  therefore 
be  the  same  as  that  which  he  witnessed.  Its  origin, 
however,  and  its  whole  course,  are  genuinely  Flor- 
entine ;  and  the  narrative  of  the  event  is  necessary 
to  give  an  idea  of  Lorenzo's  position  at  the  time  in 
which  Michael  Angelo  came  into  contact  with  him. 

Cosmo  had  before  endeavored,  in  his  way,  to 
weaken  the  influence  of  the  powerful  families,  by 
marrying  his  grand-daughter  Bianca,  the  sister  of 
Lorenzo  and  Giuliano,  with  Guglielmo,  the  future 
heir  of  the  wealth  of  the  Pazzi.  In  this  way  he 
hoped  to  bring  about  a  blending  of  the  family  in- 
terests on  both  sides.  But  the  Pazzi  held  back,  and 
preserved  their  independence ;  so  that  Lorenzo  and 
Giuliano,  after  they  had  become  rulers  of  Florence, 
were  obliged  to  consider  more  seriously  how  they 
might  put  an  end  to  the  threatened  rivalry.  On 
one  point  they  observed  no  discretion,  —  they  en- 


THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  THE  PAZZI.         93 

dcavored  with  jealous  vigilance  to  prevent  any  other 
house  from  rising  by  its  riches  to  an  equality  with 
themselves.  If  the  power  of  a  family  threatened  to 
overstep  the  limit,  they  interfered,  and  took  the 
chance  of  what  might  happen. 

Lorenzo  managed  that  a  series  of  measures  hum- 
bling to  the  Pazzi  should  emanate  from  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  city.  The  great,  so-called  noble  houses 
had  been  commonly  treated  with  consideration, 
though  this  was  not,  however,  constitutionally  estab- 
lished :  this  consideration  was  now  lost  sight  of  with 
regard  to  the  Pazzi.  Angry  words  escaped  the  fam- 
ily :  the  Medici  expected  nothing  else ;  they  stood 
upon  their  guard,  and  observed  them. 

At  length,  however,  it  amounted  to  flagrant  injus- 
tice. The  wife  of  a  Pazzi  claimed  to  inherit  the 
property  of  her  deceased  father.  A  cousin  unlaw- 
fully kept  back  a  part  of  the  inheritance.  A  lawsuit 
ensued,  which  resulted  in  favor  of  the  wife  ;  a  fresh 
trial  awarded  the  right  of  possession  to  the  coxisin. 
Lorenzo  carried  his  point,  —  he  wished  that  the 
money  should  be  divided.  Giuliano  himself  remon- 
strated at  this  injustice ;  but  the  higher  interest 
prevailed :  Lorenzo  was  young,  passionate,  and 
courageous ;  he  thought  himself  able  to  oppose  the 
storm. 

It  did  not  fail  to  burst  forth.  In  Florence  the 
Pazzi  kept  quiet ;  but  in  Rome  they  began  to  forge 
their  weapons.  Like  the  Medici,  and  other  Floren- 
tine houses,  they  had  a  bank  there  ;  and  Francesco 
Pazzi,  who  conducted  the  business,  stood  on  the  best 
terms  with  the  Riarii,  the  family  of  the  ruling  pope. 


94  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

The  Medici  were  hated  by  Sixtus  IY.,  and  were  soon 
to  feel  the  weight  of  his  vengeance.  He  had  just 
nominated  another  in  the  place  of  the  deceased 
Archbishop  of  Pisa,  who  was  hostilely  disposed 
towards  the  Medici,  and  whom  they  in  their  turn  pre- 
vented from  entering  upon  his  office.  It  was  agreed 
in  Rome,  that,  if  the  pope  was  to  have  rest,  the  Med- 
ici must  be  annihilated  in  Florence.  The  Riarii 
and  Francesco  Pazzi  devised  the  first  plan.  The 
Archbishop  of  Pisa  was  drawn  in,  and  afterwards 
the  old  Jacopo  Pazzi,  the  head  of  the  family  in 
Florence,  whose  scruples  the  pope  himself  undertook 
to  remove.  Giovanbatista  da  Montesecco,  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  papal  troops,  came  to  Florence 
to  settle  the  details,  —  how,  when,  and  where,  the 
brothers  were  to  be  murdered ;  whether  singly,  or 
at  the  same  time  at  the  same  place:  after  this  he 
arranged  his  army  in  small  divisions,  so  as  to  sur- 
round the  city ;  and  the  troops,  at  a  single  breaking 
hi  on  all  sides,  were  to  meet  in  Florence.  Cardinal 
Riario  brought  the  conspirators  within  the  walls  of 
the  city,  himself  conveying  them  through  the  gates 
by  mixing  them  with  his  numerous  retinue. 

The  visit  of  this  powerful  man  was  an  event.  A 
feast  was  prepared,  to  which  both  the  Medici  were 
invited.  It  was  here  they  were  to  be  put  to  death. 
But,  shortly  before,  Giuliano  sent  an  excuse.  A  res- 
olution had  now  to  be  taken  at  once ;  for,  with  the 
large  number  of  those  privy  to  the  plan,  and  the 
punctual  preconcerting  of  all  the  other  measures, 
the  shortest  delay  might  have  been  fatal  to  the  good 
cause.  It,  was  decided,  that  the  cardinal  should  read 


THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  THE  PAZZI.         95 

mass  in  the  cathedral  on  the  morning  of  the  day 
following.  The  brothers  would  be  obliged  to  appear 
out  of  courtesy,  and  this  would  be  the  opportunity 
for  stabbing  them.  Giovanbatista  Pazzi  was  to  take 
Lorenzo ;  Francesco  Pazzi,  Giuliano. 

When  all  was  settled,  Giovanbatista  declared  sud- 
denly that  he  could  not  execute  murder  in  sacred 
places.  Two  others  were  now  appointed  instead  of 
him,  —  the  one  a  priest,  who  was  instructing  a  natu- 
ral daughter  of  Jacopo  Pazzi's  in  Latin.  This  seces- 
sion of  Giovanbatista' s  was  the  beginning  of  the 
failure,  says  Machiavelli;  for,  if  ever  courageous 
firmness  is  indispensable,  it  is  on  such  occasions. 
Experience,  he  says,  further  teaches,  that  even  those 
who  are  accustomed  to  arms  and  blood  lose  their 
courage  in  such  a  conflict  as  this. 

The  signal  for  the  moment  at  which  the  conspira- 
tors were  to  strike,  was  given  by  the  bell,  while  mass 
was  being  read.  At  the  same  moment,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Pisa  with  his  men  was  to  storm  the  palace 
of  the  Signiory.  Thus,  at  one  blow,  they  were  to 
effect  the  subversion  of  every  thing,  and  to  have  the 
power  in  their  own  hands. 

The  brothers  vaguely  surmised,  that  something 
was  designed  against  them ;  but  in  this  instance  they 
proceeded  unsuspectingly.  Lorenzo  came  first; 
Giuliano  remained  away :  one  of  the  Pazzi  ran  to 
fetch  him,  and  arm-in-arm  they  entered  the  Church 
of  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore.  The  conspirators  stood 
in  the  midst  of  the  throng,  and  awaited  the  bell, 
while  the  words  of  the  mass  floated  through  the  vast 
dusky  dome,  over  the  silent  multitude. 


96  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

The  bell  chimed,  and  Giuliano  received  the  first 
thrust  in  his  bosom.  He  sprang  up,  staggered  a  few 
steps  forward,  and  fell  to  the  ground.  Francesco 
Pazzi  fell  furiously  upon  him,  and  lacerated  him  so 
madly  with  his  dagger,  thrust  upon  thrust,  that,  not 
distinguishing  his  own  limbs  from  those  of  his  deadly 
enemy,  he  gave  himself  a  dangerous  wound. 

Meanwhile,  however,  Lorenzo  had  kept  his  ground 
better.  The  dagger  had  struck  his  neck  ;  he  stood 
back,  and  defended  himself.  The  conspirators  were 
startled :  his  friends  recovered  themselves ;  they 
surrounded  him,  and  carried  him  to  the  sacristy, 
against  the  doors  of  which  Francesco,  who  had  at 
length  left  Giuliano  lying  in  his  blood,  stormed  with 
his  companions.  A  fearful  tumult  filled  the  church. 
The  cardinal  stood  at  the  altar:  his  ecclesiastics 
surrounded  and  protected  him ;  for  the  rage  of  the 
people,  as  they  begun  to  understand  matters,  was 
now  turned  against  him. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  Archbishop  of  Pisa  had 
marched  to  the  palace.  The  Signiory,  who  live 
there  as  long  as  their  office  lasts,  and  might  on  no 
condition  leave  it,  were  just  sitting  at  breakfast. 
The  surprise  was  complete  ;  but  it  was  met  with  self- 
possession.  Combined  with  the  armed  servants  of 
the  palace,  they  forced  back  the  hostile  bands,  who 
had  already  followed  the  archbishop  up  the  steps; 
while  those  \vho  were  above  were  cut  down,  or 
thrown  from  the  windows  on  the  square  below. 
One  of  the  Pazzi,  however,  and  the  archbishop  him- 
self, they  executed  on  the  spot.  They  threw  a  noose 
round  the  neck  of  each,  and  hung  them  out  against 


THE   CONSPIRACY  OP  THE  PAZZI.  9? 

the  window,  between  heaven  and  earth;  while  the 
rest  lay  on  the  pavement  below  with  broken  limbs. 
Still,  however,  the  conspirators  remained  in  the 
ground-floor  of  the  palace,  where  they  had  barri- 
caded themselves.  Above,  the  Signiory  sounded 
the  alarm-bell ;  from  every  street  armed  citizens 
streamed  towards  the  square. 

In  the  cathedral,  the  sacristy  was  not  to  be  gained 
by  force.  The  metal  doors  with  which  it  was  fur- 
nished afforded  good  resistance.  The  adherents  of 
the  Medici  poured  in  from  without ;  but  Francesco 
Pazzi  did  not  lose  courage.  The  thrust  which  he 
had  given  himself  in  the  leg  was  so  deep  that  his 
strength  left  him.  He  still  attempted  to  mount 
his  horse,  in  order  that,  riding  through  the  streets, 
he  might,  as  had  been  preconcerted,  excite  the  peo- 
ple to  revolt;  but  he  could  do  so  110  longer.  He 
crawled  miserably  home,  and  begged  the  old  Jacopo 
to  undertake  the  ride  for  him.  He  still  had  no  idea 
of  what  was  going  on  in  the  palace  of  the  Gov- 
ernment ;  besides,  assistance  from  without '  was  to 
appear  speedily.  Jacopo,  old  and  infirm,  appeared 
on  the  square  with  a  hundred  armed  horsemen ;  but 
it  was  already  occupied  by  armed  citizens,  none  of 
whom  would  listen  to  him.  He  saw  the  two  corpses 
hanging  from  the  window  above.  So  he  marched 
from  the  city  with  his  men,  and  turned  towards  the 
Romagna.  Others,  too,  cucceeded  in  getting  away. 
Francesco  lay  on  his  couch,  and  awaited  his  fate. 

This  soon  overtook  him.  Lorenzo,  led  by  armed 
citizens,  had  arrived  at  his  house :  the  palace  of 
the  Government  had  been  emptied  of  traitors ;  the 


98  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

name  of  Medici  was  proclaimed  everywhere  ;  and 
the  broken  limbs  of  their  foes  were  carried  by  the 
people  through  the  streets,  impaled  on  pikes.  The 
palace  of  the  Pazzi  was  the  object  of  general  fury. 
They  tore  forth  Francesco,  dragged  him  to  the 
palace  of  the  Government,  and  hung  him  by  the  side 
of  the  two  others.  Not  a  sound  escaped  him  by  the 
way ;  he  replied  to  no  question ;  he  only  at  times 
sighed  deeply.  Thus  he  was  put  to  death,  and  the 
palace  of  the  Pazzi  was  plundered.  And  then,  when 
vengeance  was  accomplished,  there  was  no  Floren- 
tine citizen  who  did  not  appear  before  Lorenzo  in 
arms,  or  in  his  best  estate,  to  place  himself  with  his 
life  and  property  at  his  disposal.  The  old  Jacopo 
also  returned  to  the  city ;  he  had  been  pursued,  and 
captured  in  the  mountains.  He,  as  well  as  another 
Pazzi,  who  had  remained  quietly  at  his  villa,  were 
condemned  and  executed  within  four  days.  But  all 
this  satisfied  not  the  rage  of  the  people.  They  tore 
Jacopo  out  of  the  family  vault,  placed  a  rope  round 
his  neck,  and  dragged  the  body  to  the  Arno,  into 
which  he  was  thrown  where  the  stream  was  deepest. 
Lorenzo  was  now  alone ;  but  his  position  with 
regard  to  the  people  was  no  longer  the  same.  The 
people  felt  more  deeply  than  before  how  completely 
their  destiny  was  entwined  with  that  of  the  Medici. 
The  wars  with  the  pope  and  with  Naples,  which  now 
ensued,  contributed  to  make  Lorenzo's  new  position 
a  lasting  one.  His  destruction  was  imminent ;  but 
he  was  saved  by  one  of  the  most  spirited  adventures. 
With  no  guarantee  of  personal  security,  he  repaired 
by  ship  to  Naples,  into  the  power  of  his  enemies. 


THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  THE  PAZZI.        99 

His  appearance  here,  his  wisdom,  —  especially,  how- 
ever, his  money,  —  made  him  work  wonders.  He 
went  as  a  lost  man,  who  imprudently  advances  to 
destruction ;  he  came  back  in  triumph  as  a  friend 
of  the  king,  who  soon  also  reconciled  him  with  the 
pope.  This  lattter  was  the  most  furious  of  his  ene- 
mies. It  was  not  because  the  murderous  design 
had  been  supported  by  himself.  He  had  only  in 
view  the  insult  inflicted  on  him  by  the  hanging  of 
the  archbishop,  and  the  thwarting  of  his  plans. 
Characteristic,  however,  of  the  time  is  the  declara- 
tion of  the  Florentine  clergy,  who  publicly  declared, 
in  the  plainest  words,  that  they  despised  his  anath- 
emas, and  that  the  pope  was  a  conspirator  like 
the  rest.  However,  all  this  bitter  animosity  turned 
into  kindness  and  pardoning  friendship ;  and  the 
Medici  came  forth  from  the  plots  to  which  he  was  to 
have  fallen  a  sacrifice,  as  the  most  distinguished 
prince  in  Italy. 

Lorenzo  well  understood  the  art  of  making  him- 
self popular.  It  is  true,  since  1578  he  had  a  kind 
of  body-guard  in  the  palace.  His  wife,  too,  was  an 
Orsini,  belonging  to  the  proudest  nobles  in  Italy, 
who  imagined  themselves  no  less  than  kings  and 
emperors  ;  yet  he  went  about  the  city  as  one  of  his 
fellow-citizens.  When  there  was  any  public  festivity, 
he  had  either  arranged  it,  or  had  the  greatest  share 
in  it.  He  mingled  in  the  throng,  and  was  accessible 
to  all.  He  wrote  verses  to  the  girls,  who  sang  them 
in  their  dances  in  the  public  squares,  at  the  spring 
festival  in  the  month  of  May.  Every  child  knew 
him;  whoever  desired  it,  he  helped  by  deed  and 


100  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

counsel.  But  he  shone  brightest  in  the  eyes  of  the 
young,  when  he  arranged  those  splendid  carnival 
processions,  for  which  he  himself  wrote  the  songs. 
He  spared  no  expense  on  such  occasions ;  and  only 
a  few,  who  kept  it  secret,  knew  that  in  doing  so  he 
used  the  public  money.  Hitherto  the  Medici  had 
defrayed  their  expenses  out  of  their  own  property ; 
Lorenzo  began  to  limit  the  business  of  the  firm,  and 
to  obtain  means  in  another  manner. 

It  was  on  occasion  of  one  such  carnival  pageant, 
that  Francesco  Granacci,  a  noble,  clever  youth,  pos- 
sessing remarkable  talent  for  such  things,  insinuated 
himself  into  Lorenzo's  favor.  The  triumphal  pro- 
cession of  Paulus  ^Emilius  was  being  represented. 
Imitations  of  Roman  triumphs  were  a  favorite  form 
of  public  pageant.  Granacci  soon  found  opportu- 
nity to  avail  himself  of  this  kindly  feeling  both  for 
himself  and  Michael  Angelo.  He  obtained  access 
to  the  gardens  of  San  Marco,  where  the  art- 
treasures  of  the  Medici  were  placed. 

Lorenzo  had  here  a  number  of  young  people, 
especially  such  as  were  of  good  family,  instructed 
in  art.  The  old  sculptor,  Bertoldo,  Donatello's 
pupil,  directed  the  studies.  The  works  of  sculp- 
ture were  arranged  in  the  gardens,  and  in  buildings 
fitted  for  them  were  hung  pictures  and  cartoons  of 
the  first  Florentine  masters.  Every  foreign  work 
that  could  influence  the  improvement  of  young 
artists  was  placed  there,  and  talent  was  soon  devel- 
oped under  this  favorable  influence.  Michael  An- 
gelo was  now  introduced  by  Granacci  to  the  gardens 
of  San  Marco. 


THE   GABDENS    Ot    THE   MEDICI.  101 


The  sight  of  the  statues  which  he  found  here 
gave  a  new  direction  to  his  thoughts.  As  he  had 
before,  for  Ghirlandajo's  sake,  neglected  school,  so 
now  for  the  sake  of  the  statues  he  slighted  the 
atelier  of  Ghirlandajo.  Lorenzo  was  at  that  tune 
preparing  marble  works  in  his  garden  for  the 
building  of  a  library,  in  which  the  collection  of 
books  begun  by  Cosmo  was  to  be  placed,  and  the 
completion  of  which  subsequently  Michael  Augelo 
himself  directed.  He  now  got  upon  friendly  terms 
with  the  stone-masons.  He  obtained  from  them  a 
piece  of  marble,  and  the  necessary  instruments,  and 
began  to  copy  off-hand  the  antique  mask  of  a  faun 
which  he  met  with,  as  an  ornament  in  the  garden. 
At  the  same  time  he  did  not  entirely  adhere  to  the 
original;  for  he  gave  his  work  a  widely  opened 
mouth,  in  which  the  teeth  could  be  seen. 

This  work  caught  the  attention  of  Lorenzo,  who 
tfas  wont  to  have  an  eye  on  things  himself,  and 
fisited  the  workmen  in  the  garden.  He  praised 
Afichael  Angelo  ;  but  he  jestingly  remarked,  "  You 
have  made  your  faun  so  old,  and  yet  you  have  left 
him  all  his  teeth ;  you  should  have  known,  that,  at 
such  an  advanced  age,  there  are  generally  some 
wanting." 

When  the  prince  returned  the  next  time,  he  found 
a  gap  in  the  mouth  of  the  old  man,  which  was  so 
skilfully  done,  that  no  finished  master  could  have 
managed  it  better.  He  now  took  the  matter  more 


102  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

seriously,  and  ordered  Michael  Angelo  to  tell  his 
father  that  he  wished  to  see  him. 

Ludovico  Buonarotti  would  not  appear  upon  this 
order.  The  affair  with  the  painting  had  come  hard 
upon  him ;  but  that  his  son  should  now  be  a  stone- 
mason also,  seemed  to  him  too  much.  Francesco 
Granacci,  who  had  helped  in  the  first  instance, 
attempted  to  reconcile  him  now  also,  and  prevailed 
so  far  as  to  induce  him  to  set  out  to  see  Lorenzo. 
Michael  Angelo's  father  was  a  straightforward,  hon- 
est nature,  —  a  man  who  adhered  to  old-established 
notions,  — "  uomo  religiose  e  buono,  e  piuttosto 
d'antichi  costumi,  che  no,"  says  Condivi.  Any  thing 
out  of  the  way  was  with  difficulty  made  plausible  to 
him,  before  he  gave  up  his  distrust  of  it.  Thus  he 
now  lamented,  that  th~~  had  led  his  son  into  all 
sorts  of  errors ;  and  he  went  to  the  palace  with  the 
intention  of  agreeing  to  nothing. 

Lorenzo's  amiability,  however,  soon  disposed  him 
to  feel  differently,  and  induced  him  to  make  avowals, 
on  which  he  had  certainly  not  thought  at  home. 
Not  only  his  son  Michael  Angelo,  but  he  himself, 
and  all  his  family,  were,  with  their  life  and  property, 
at  the  service  of  his  Magnificence.  Medici  inquired 
after  his  circumstances,  and  what  business  he  carried 
on.  "  I  have  never  followed  any  business,"  said  he ; 
"  but  I  live  upon  the  small  income  of  the  possessions 
left  me  by  my  ancestors.  These  I  endeavor  to  keep 
in  order,  and,  so  far  as  I  can,  to  improve  them." 
"  Well,"  replied  Lorenzo, "  look  around  you ;  and,  if 
I  can  do  any  thing  for  you,  only  apply  to  me :  what- 
ever is  in  my  power  shall  be  done." 


LORENZO    DEI    MEDICI.  103 

The  ma.tter  was  settled.  Ludovico  presented  him- 
self, after  some  time,  with  a  request  for  a  vacant 
post  in  the  custom-house,  which  brought  in  eight 
crowns  per  month.  Lorenzo,  who  had  expected  very 
different  demands,  is  said  to  have  laughingly  clapped 
him  on  the  shoulder,  saying,  "  You  will  be  all  your 
life  a  poor  man,  Ludovico."  He  gave  him  the 
appointment.  Michael  Angelo,  however,  he  had  at 
once  taken  into  his  palace,  had  assigned  him  a  room, 
provided  him  with  new  apparel,  and  settled  upon  him 
monthly  five  ducats  pocket-money.  Every  day  there 
was  a  public  entertainment  at  the  Medici's :  Lorenzo 
sat  at  the  head ;  whoever  was  first  there,  sat  next 
him,  without  regard  to  rank  and  riches.  Thus  it 
was  that  Michael  Angelo  had  oftener  the  place  of 
honor  than  even  the  sons  of  the  house,  —  all  of 
whom,  however,  loved  him,  and  regarded  him  kindly. 

Lorenzo  did  not  rest  here.  He  often  sent  for 
Michael  Angelo,  looked  over  with  him  the  cut  stones, 
coins,  and  other  valuable  things,  of  which  the  palace 
was  full,  and  heard  his  judgment.  Or  Poliziano 
conversed  with  him,  and  introduced  him  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  antiquity.  By  his  advice,  Michael  Angelo 
executed  the  battle  of  Hercules  with  the  centaurs, — 
a  work  which  astonished  every  one,  and  for  which 
Poliziano  gave  him  the  marble.  It  is  a  bas-relief. 
Michael  Angelo  never  would  give  it  away,  and  took 
pleasure  in  it  even  in  his  old  age.  It  is  to  be  seen 
at  the  present  day  in  the  palace  of  the  Buonarotti 
family;  the  faun's  head  is  in  the  gallery  degli  Uffici. 

Bertoldo,  on  the  other  hand,  inclined  him  to 
Donatello,  and  instructed  him  in  casting  in  bronze. 


104  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Michael  Angelo  executed  a  Madonna  in  the  manner 
of  this  master,  whose  nature  attracted  him  just  as 
much  as  his  works.  He  drew,  besides,  with  Bertoldo's 
other  pupils,  after  Masaccio  in  the  Brancacci  chapel, 
where  Filippino  Lippi  had  just  finished  the  last 
painting  required.  Granacci  is  here  introduced  as 
a  naked  boy ;  Filippino's  portrait,  Botticelli's,  who 
was  his  master,  Pollajuolo's,  and  the  likenesses  of 
other  men  of  celebrity,  or  well  known  in  the  city,  are 
to  be  found  there.  In  this  manner  of  introducing 
himself  and  his  friends  into  the  pictures,  the  artist's 
power  of  characterizing  became  a  part  of  the  art ; 
and  the  feeling  that  a  great  and  ever-renewing  com- 
munity went  on  working  in  this  way  with  all  their 
energies,  strengthened  itself  in  the  minds  of  the 
aspiring. 

Nothing'  at  that  time  was  despised  which  advanced 
art  itself.  Every  branch  of  art  developed  itself  freely 
by  the  side  of  another.  Ancient  and  modern  times 
alike  afforded  models.  The  most  careful  study  of 
nature  was  carried  on  besides,  making  the  feeling  for 
the  living  ever  triumph  over  the  desire  for  lifeless 
imitation,  which  in  later  times  has  unhappily  so 
completely  gained  the  ascendency. "  In  these  studies, 
as  they  were  at  that  time  pursued  in  Florence  under 
Lorenzo's  personal  influence,  we  have  the  most 
beautiful  example  of  an  art-school  before  us,  and 
perhaps  the  only  one  we  are  justified  in  asserting  has 
borne  good -and  rich  fruit.  There  is  no  other  kind 
of  wholesome  influence  upon  art  on  the  part  of  a 
prince  ;  for  art  is  always  lowered  if  princes  attempt 
to  raise  it  from  external  motives,  and  not  from  the 


LORENZO   DEI   MEDICI.  105 

noblest  yearnings  of  their  own  soul.  Lorenzo's  ex- 
ample shows,  that  the  resources  he  expended  were 
the  least  of  the  powers  at  work.  It  required,  besides, 
that  Medici  himself  should  be  thus  deeply  initiated 
in  classical  studies ;  that  he  should  select  the  youths 
with  his  own  eye ;  that  he  should  himself  have  the 
greatest  delight  in  the  collections  which  he  placed  at 
their  disposal.  He  appointed  the  teachers ;  he  fol- 
lowed the  progress,  he  discovered  the  brilliant  future 
in  the  first  attempts  of  the  beginner.  He  offered  the 
young  people  in  his  palace,  intercourse  with  the  first 
minds  of  Italy,  —  for  all  streamed  to  Florence ;  and 
the  house  of  the  Medici  was  not  only  the  place  from 
whence  the  finest  threads  of  policy  were  spun  on  all 
sides,  but  religious  movements,  philosophical  studies, 
poetry,  and  philology  turned  thither  to  receive  the 
bias  of  his  mind.  Whatever  great  things  happened 
in  the  world  were  known,  discussed,  and  estimated 
there.  What  was  indifferent  was  crushed  under  the 
abundance  of  what  was  excellent.  Excellence  itself 
was  not  blindly  accepted,  according  to  outward  signs ; 
but  it  was  tested  by  understanding  before  it  was 
admired.  Stirring  social  life  mingled  uninterrupt- 
edly with  the  most  serious  tasks ;  and,  as  a  whole- 
some contrast  to  the  sweetness  of  this  existence, 
came  the  keen  critical  judgment  of  the  Florentine 
public,  who  allowed  themselves  neither  to  be  deceived 
nor  bribed  in  matters  of  culture. 

This  state  of  society  was  only  to  be  met  with  in 
Florence,  and  chained  the  Florentines  to  their  native 
city,  where  alone  they  found  the  true,  helpful 
recognition  of  their  own  refined  minds.  Nowhere 

6* 


106  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGEL.O. 

were  such  ovil  things  said,  but  nowhere  such  noble 
ones.  The  artists  often  saw  themselves  wronged, 
cut  off  in  their  payment  with  pitiful  niggardliness, 
pursued  with  bitter  words  and  nicknames,  but  ever, 
notwithstanding,  understood  and  appreciated  with 
that  true  justice,  even  in  their  most  extraordinary 
works,  for  the  sake  of  which  they  gladly  relin- 
quished all  the  rest.  What  is  an  artist  without  a 
oublic  whom  hs  feels  worthy  of  him  ?  Donatello, 
when  in  Padua,  where  they  overwhelmed  him  with 
flattery,  longed  to  be  back  in  his  native  city.  There, 
indeed,  as  he  said,  they  ever  found  something  in 
his  works  to  blame ;  but  they  incited  him  also  to 
renewed  efforts,  and  to  the  acquisition  of  higher, 
more  glorious  perfection.  He  who  allowed  himself 
rest  in  Florence  stepped  into  the  background. 
Those  artists,  to  whom  the  gaining  of  their  daily 
bread  was  not  the  immediate  ground  for  work,  were 
stimulated  by  ambition  ;  those,  however,  to  whom 
the  pay  was  a  matter  of  importance,  were  obliged 
to  strain  every  power,  because  the  competition  was 
so  great.  "  In  the  air  of  Florence,"  says  Vasari, 
"  there  lies  an  immense  stimulus  to  aspire  after 
fame  and  honor.  No  one  desires  to  stand  on  a 
level  with  the  rest ;  every  one  aims  higher.  Each 
man  says  to  himself,  Are  you  not  as  good  as  any 
other  ?  Can  you  not  achieve  just  as  much  and 
more  ?  He  who  wishes  to  go  on  subsisting  comforta- 
bly by  the  arts  which  he  has  learned,  must  not 
remain  in  Florence.  Florence  is  like  timo,  which 
creates  things,  and  again  destroys  them  when  it  has 
completed  them." 


LIFE   IN    FLORENCE.  107 

I  believe,  if  it  is  ever  permissible  to  form  a 
romantic  idea  of  things,  we  may  do  so  in  consider- 
ing the  Florentine  society  of  that  period.  The  arts, 
which  with  us  ever  give  a  finer  relish  to  life,  with- 
out being  a  resource  at  all  times,  formed  there  such 
a  necessary  ingredient,  that  they  were  like  the  indis- 
pensable salt  to  food.  Not  only  were  poems  written, 
but  the  songs  composed  were  sung ;  dancing,  riding, 
tennis,  were  daily  enjoyments ;  and  conversation,  in 
which  the  choicest  language  was  employed,  appeared 
just  as  welcome  as  a  refreshing  bath  or  a  repast 
That  which,  however,  must  have  enhanced  this  life, 
especially  as  regards  Michael  Angelo,  is  a  peculiarity 
among  the  Romanic  nations,  which  the  Germanic 
lack.  That  awkward  manner,  which  makes  our 
German  youth  silent  or  heavy  when  they  meet  with 
their  elders,  is  not  known  among  the  Italians. 
Young  people  of  fifteen,  sixteen,  or  seventeen  years 
old,  who  in  Germany  cannot  overcome  the  discom- 
fort with  which  they  regard  themselves,  standing 
between  the  older  and  the  younger  with  no  defined 
position,  in  Italy  are  free  from  such  embarrassing 
feelings,  and  conduct  themselves  with  ease  towards 
men,  women,  and  children. 

Thus  Michael  Angelo,  at  that  age  in  which  the 
pliant  mind  of  man  is  capable  of  the  deepest  and 
richest  impressions,  received  an  education  which 
could  scarcely  have  been  acquired  at  a  more  fortu- 
nate period.  Soon,  however,  those  storms  appear, 
the  traces  of  which  are  as  discernible  in  his  charac- 
ter as  were  the  brighter  influences  of  those  early 
sunny  days.  For  Lorenzo's  end  was  nearer  than 


108  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

any  one  anticipated;  and  the  changes  which  had 
already  begun  in  the  latter  period  of  his  rule, 
developed  themselves  more  and  more  rapidly  into  a 
total  overthrow  of  the  existing  state  of  things. 


LORENZO   DEI   MEDICI.  109 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

1494  —  1496. 

Savonarola  —  Lorenzo's  Death  —  Change  of  Things  in  Florence  — 
Irruption  of  the  French  into  Italy  —  Michael  Angelo's  Flight 
to  Venice  —  Expulsion  of  the  Medici  —  Michael  Angelo  in 
Bologna  —  The  New  Republic  in  Florence  under  Savonarola  — 
Michael  Angelo's  Return  —  The  Marble  Cupid — Journey  to 
Home. 

SINCE  the  murder  of  Giuliano,  the  old  joyful 
feeling,  which  had  once  prevailed  at  the  Med- 
icean  court,  had  never  returned.  The  feasts  of 
Carreggi  were  past,  when  they  wrote  poems,  made 
music,  and  studied  philosophy  under  the  shade  of 
the  laurels ;  when  they  had  banished  every  thought 
of  the  future  with  that  carelessness  which  is  so 
necessary  to  the  youthful,  genial  enjoyment  of  life. 
And,  as  a  change  had  passed  over  the  Medici,  it  was 
so  also  in  the  minds  of  the  Florentines  themselves. 
For  a  while,  the  clouds  obscured  not  the  sun ;  but 
it  was  felt  by  all,  that  the  clouds  were  rising. 

Two  things  were  a  matter  of  course,  if  we  con- 
sider the  position  of  the  State :  in  the  first  place, 
the  more  Lorenzo  was  forced  into  a  princely  position 
by  the  mere  power  of  circumstances,  the  more  must 
the  nobles  of  equal  birth  with  him  have  feared  to 


110  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

fall  into  subjection,  —  such  nobles  as  the  Strozzi, 
Soderini,  Capponi,  and  a  whole  series  of  the  most 
powerful  families ;  in  the  second  place,  Lorenzo 
himself,  looking  for  opposition  from  this  quarter  as 
a  natural  result,  no  doubt  endeavored  the  more 
skilfully  to  maintain  the  appearance  of  indiiference, 
and  thus  to  hold  the  common  people  more  firmly  on 
his  side.  Hence  those  constant  public  amusements, 
and  the  affability  displayed  at  them.  It  might  almost 
be  disputed,  whether  it  lay  in  his  intention  to  make 
himself  absolute  master  of  the  city.  We  know  how 
impressively  he  recommended  his  son  never  to 
forget  that  he  was  nothing  but  the  first  citizen  of 
the  city.  But  granted  that  Lorenzo  had  perceived 
the  dangers  which  accompanied  an  outward  eleva- 
tion of  his  family  to  the  rank  of  princes,  and  wished 
to  defer  the  moment  at  which  it  would  come  to  this, 
—  that  it  would  some  day  come  to  this  was  evident 
to  him,  and  to  every  one  who  knew  the  circum- 
stances more  closely,  —  financial  affairs  compelled 
the  Medici  to  demand  the  money  of  the  State  for  the 
advancement  of  their  own  plans.  This  necessity 
became  increasingly  urgent.  It  was  this  that  must 
have  led  to  tyranny. 

Here,  therefore,  a  collision  threatened.  The  Flor- 
entines were  too  good  merchants  not  to  consider  the 
case  before  them,  and  to  calculate  upon  the  end. 
They  were  only  at  first  paths  which  might  lead  to 
danger ;  the  men  were  needed  who  were  to  urge 
and  to  guide  the  contest.  The  ordinary  feeling  of 
the  public  did  not  yet  suffer  from  these  possibilities. 
Another  power,  on  the  contrary,  rose  in  the  city, 


SAVONAROLA.  Ill 

with  a  more  dangerous  and  more  convulsing  influ- 
ence ;  and  here,  too,  was  a  man  who  possessed  a 
powerful  nature  to  put  into  execution  the  thoughts 
which  had  first  originated  in  his  mind.  This  man 
is  Girolamo  Savonarola :  his  idea  was  total  reform, 
politically  and  morally,  for  the  good  of  the  freedom 
of  Florence  ;  and  events  favored  him. 

Savonarola  was  a  native  of  Ferrara.  He  came  to 
Florence  in  the  same  year  in  which  Michael  Angelo 
was  admitted  by  Lorenzo  into  the  palace  of  the 
Medici.  He  was  thirty-seven  years  old,  and  had 
been  before  for  a  short  time  in  the  city ;  but  his 
sermons  had  then  met  with  little  success.  He  now 
appeared  as  a  mature  man,  and  began  immediately 
to  come  forward  in  that  spirit  which  he  preserved 
steadily  to  the  last.  He  had  fostered  his  convic- 
tions as  a  child ;  and,  up  to  his  death,  he  never  once 
acted  contrary  to  them,  or  lost  sight  of  them. 

We  might  call  this  delicate,  retired  character, 
resting  only  on  itself,  and  woven  as  out  of  iron 
threads,  an  incarnate  idea ;  for  the  will  which 
animated  him,  which  urged  him  forwards,  and 
sustained  him,  is  so  plainly  to  be  perceived  in  all 
his  actions,  that  the  appearance  of  the  marvellous 
but  one-sided  power  has  something  awful  in  it. 
We  men  live  in  a  certain  indistinctness  which  is 
necessary  to  us.  Goethe  calls  it  obtuseness  in 
himself.  The  passing  time  robs  us  of  thougl its;  the 
coming  time  supplies  us  with  new  ones :  we  can 
neither  retain  those,  nor  resist  these.  We  pass 
from  one  to  the  other :  carried  now  right,  now  left 
in  our  course,  we  fancy  we  have  done  much  if  we 


112  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

at  least  occasionally  use  the  rudder, — if  we  keep 
ourselves,  on  the  whole,  from  going  backwards. 
This  man,  however,  cuts  through  the  hazy  sea  of 
life  like  a  vessel  which  can  do  without  sail  and 
favorable  winds,  which  the  storms  cannot  mislead, 
possessing  in  itself  the  power  which  carries  it  for- 
wards, straight  on,  deviating  not  an  inch  from  the 
line  which  it  intended  to  keep  from  the  first.  At 
three  and  twenty  years  of  age,  he  flees  by  night 
from  the  paternal  house  to  enter  a  cloister.  He 
leaves  a  letter  behind  him,  which  expresses  the  calm 
reflection  of  a  mind  thoroughly  settled  in  itself. 
He  rather  instructs  his  father  than  justifies  himself. 
He  requests  him  to  comfort  his  mother,  and  to  take 
care  of  the  education  of  his  brothers. 

Savonarola's  leading  idea  was  the  doctrine  of  the 
chastisement  which  was  immediately  to  overtake 
corrupted  Italy,  in  order  that  his  country  might 
eventually  enjoy  a  higher  state  of  prosperity.  The 
world  seemed  to  him  to  be  hastening  with  great 
strides  towards  the  end.  Savonarola  saw  heathenish 
doings  everywhere,  —  the  pope  and  the  cardinals  at 
the  head.  The  punishment  of  these  abominations 
could  not  long  delay  ;  the  measure  was  full.  Thus 
he  thought ;  and,  wherever  he  looked,  this  feeling  of 
his  heart,  which  sought  expression  in  words,  was 
confirmed  by  what  happened. 

It  is  true,  the  moral  condition  of  the  country 
seems  to  our  judgment  insufferable.  The  conspiracy 
of  the  Pazzi  does  not  stand  out  conspicuously  as  an 
especial  case ;  but  every  thing  that  occurred  was 
fashioned  after  the  same  model.  There  was  no  man 


SAVONAROLA.  113 

of  importance  at  that  time,  whose  death  did  not  give 
rise  to  a  rumor  of  poisoning.  In  reading  the  his- 
torians of  the  day,  we  find  that  this  cause  is  ever 
involuntarily  supposed  as  the  first  and  most  natural. 
No  stain  was  attached  to  illegitimate  children ; 
whether  the  mother  was  a  maiden  or  a  wife,  scarcely 
a  difference  was  made  between  them  and  the  legit- 
imate offspring.  This  is  one  of  the  things  which 
Commines  considers  worth  notice,  when  he  expresses 
his  sentiments  with  regard  to  Italy.  Deceit  was 
expected  everywhere,  and  the  deceiver  alone  was  de- 
spised when  he  allowed  himself  to  be  circumvented. 
Cowardice  was  only  a  crime,  when,  united  with  too 
little  cunning,  it  missed  its  aim.  He  was  called  wise 
who  gave  no  credence  even  to  the  most  true-hearted 
assurances. 

There  was  no  such  thing  as  what  we  call,  in  our 
own  sense,  shame  of  the  verdict  of  public  opinion. 
One  example  will  show  how  men  lived  and  thought. 
Filippo  Lippi,  Masaccio's  best  pupil,  was  a  Carmelite 
monk,  who,  like  many  other  monks,  carried  on  paint- 
ing, and  rarely  had  money  in  his  house.  Univer- 
sally known  by  his  disorderly  conduct,  he,  notwith- 
standing, obtained  the  order  to  paint  St.  Margaret 
on  the  wall  of  a  nunnery.  He  requests  a  model. 
The  nuns  give  him  for  this  purpose  a  charming 
novice,  named  Lucretia  Buti.  One  fine  day  he  is 
away  with  her.  The  parents  of  the  girl  give  the 
alarm.  Lucretia  is  discovered,  but  declares  that  she 
will  on  no  condition  leave  Filippo.  Pope  Eugene 
himself  now  proposes  to  the  painter  that  he  will  re- 
lease him  from  his  monkish  vow,  so  that  he  may  at 


114  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

least  marry  Lucretia.  Of  this,  however,  Filippo  will 
not  hear ;  and  so  it  remained.  And  this  same  Filippo, 
who  was  subsequently  poisoned  by  the  relatives  of 
another  woman  whom  he  was  pursuing,  is  a  master 
who  has  painted  Madonnas  with  the  expression  of  the 
tenderest  innocence.  Whilst,  however,  in  his  works 
he  brought  out  his  innermost  and  better  nature,  other 
ecclesiastics  disregarded  even  this.  Consecrated 
priests,  bishops,  and  cardinals,  wrote  verses,  and 
acknowledged  themselves  openly  as  the  authors  of 
them,  compared  with  the  purport  of  which,  Ovid's 
Amorum  are  child's  songs.  And,  in  the  bosom  of 
families,  crime  was  grafted  upon  crime,  with  an  equal 
disregard  of  the  light  of  day.  The  doctrines  of 
religion  were  ridiculed  and  degraded.  Astrology 
and  soothsaying  became  established  official  systems, 
without  the  concurrence  of  which  even  the  popes 
ventured  not  to  act.  We  can  readily  conceive  how 
the  feeling  could  exist,  that  the  end  of  all  things 
was  at  hand. 

Savonarola,  however,  was  not  driven  by  this 
feeling,  in  spite  of  the  restless  power  with  which  it 
worked  in  his  mind,  to  despair  of  the  possibility  of  a 
cure ;  but  he  wished  to  proclaim  what  he  saw 
threatening,  that  he  might  save  whatever  was  pos- 
sible. With  this  design  he  left  his  father's  house, 
and  sought  to  obtain  a  position  from  which  his  voice 
might  be  heard  in  Italy.  He  went  through  a  long 
apprenticeship,  filled  with  privations  and  discourage- 
ments. He  prepared  himself  for  his  office  by  the 
severest  studies.  At  first  he  preached  so  harshly 
and  awkwardly,  that  he  often  thought  he  should 


SAVONAKOLA.  115 

never  learn  to  preach.  At  last  the  hour  arrived  in 
which  he  began  to  produce  an  effect.  Lorenzo 
Medici  himself  urged  his  removal  to  Florence. 
Count  Pico  di  Mirandula,  a  man  represented  by  his 
contemporaries  as  the  essence  of  manly  perfections, 
conspicuous  for  beauty,  gallantry,  nobility,  wealth, 
and  extensive  learning,  had  become  acquainted  with 
Savonarola  in  Reggio,  where  a  general  meeting 
of  his  order  was  being  held.  He  drew  Lorenzo's 
attention  to  him ;  and  he,  endeavoring  to  draw  to 
Florence  every  thing  of  importance,  effected  his  call 
to  San  Marco,  the  favorite  monastery  of  the  Medici, 
which  they  haji  themselves  built  anew,  and  had 
furnished  with  a  valuable  library. 

Here  Savonarola  now  began  to  preach.  The 
church  was  soon  too  small,  and  they  moved  into  the 
court  of  the  cloister ;  standing  under  a  Persian  rose- 
tree,  surrounded  by  listeners  who  caught  every  word 
from  his  lips,  he  spoke  with  agitating  certainty  of  the 
things  which  filled  his  heart.  He  prophesied  the  fu- 
ture ;  but  there  was  nothing  vague  or  oracular  in  his 
manner.  His  imagination  was  not  extensive,  nor 
did  bright  images  present  themselves  to  him ;  he  was 
rather  of  a  cold  nature,  whose  logical  thoughts  rose 
into  rapture.  Some  truths  he  forced  powerfully 
upon  the  world,  and  deduced  others  from  them 
with  keen  intelligence.  Politics  were  his  true  field, 
and  he  ever  looked  for  immediate  and  practical 
application  of  the  ideas  he  put  forth. 

At  first  his  sermons  contained  nothing  that  could 
raise  a  suspicion  of  his  object.  The  reform  of  the 
Church  was  an  acknowledged  necessity.  The  Med- 


116  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

ici,  with  all  their  Platonic  philosophy,  had  never 
shown  themselves  unfriendly  to  public  Christianity, 
— least  of  all  to  the  clergy,  who  possessed,  more- 
over, as  little  genuine  religion  as  themselves.  The? 
ceremonies  of  the  Church  were  indispensable.  Lo- 
renzo was  himself  at  once  the  author  of  the  most 
profane  poems,  of  a  religious  drama,  and  of  songs 
of  the  same  kind.  With  a  genuine  philosophical 
feeling,  he  favored  all  that  needed  his  favor.  That 
these  contrasts  could  be  thus  peacefully  reconciled, 
is  due  to  the  peculiarity  of  the  Romanic  nature, 
which,  without  hypocrisy,  can  at  the  same  time 
abandon  itself  to  the  most  different  tendencies,  the 
union  of  which  appears  less  natural  to  the  Germanic 
mind.  Heathen  writers  were  quoted  in  the  pulpit 
as  if  they  had  been  pious  fathers  of  the  Church. 
Even  Savonarola,  who  on  this  point  had  the  strictest 
views,  was  far  from  condemning  or  prohibiting  the 
reading  of  the  ancient  authors  generally;  but  he 
named  some  of  the  worst  writings,  which  he  wished 
should  not  be  given  into  the  hands  of  children. 

Lorenzo  so  strikingly  favored  the  monastery,  the 
prior  of  which  Savonarola  soon  became,  that  grati- 
tude and  devotion  would  have  been  natural.  But 
Savonarola  never  thought  of  seeing  things  in  this 
light.  Not  Lorenzo,  but  Providence,  had  led  him  to 
Florence :  was  he  now  to  submit  himself  to  be  its 
blind  instrument?  It  never  occurred  to  him,  as 
newly  elected  prior,  to  make  the  usual  visit  to  the 
palace  of  the  Medici.  God  had  given  him  this  office, 
and  he  need  thank  no  mortal  man  for  it.  Lorenzo 
allowed  it  to  pass  unnoticed,  visited  the  monastery 


SAVONAROLA.  117 

as  before,  and  endowed  it.  Savonarola  immediately 
employed  these  benefactions  for  beneficent  objects. 
He  wished  to  bring  back,  in  all  its  severity,  the  old 
rule  of  the  order,  which  prohibited  all  possessions. 
In  his  sermons  he  alluded  to  these  gifts.  If  a  piece 
of  meat,  he  said,  is  thrown  to  a  watchful  dog,  he 
bites  at  it  well,  and  is  silent  for  a  short  time ;  but 
he  quickly  lets  it  fall  again,  and  barks  only  the 
more  loudly  against  the  robbers  and  suppressors 
of  liberty. 

Lorenzo  stood  too  high  to  be  provoked.  It  would 
have  been  against  all  Medicean  usage  to  interfere 
openly.  He  caused  some  of  the  most  leading  men 
in  Florence  to  recommend  another  course  to  the 
prior  of  San  Marco,  as  if  entirely  of  their  own  ac- 
cord. They  inquired  why  he  disturbed  the  people 
without  reason.  He  did  nothing,  was  Savonarola's 
reply,  but  attack  crime  and  injustice  in  the  name  of 
God.  This  had  been  the  custom  in  the  early  ages 
of  the  Church.  He  knew  well  whence  the  nobles 
came,  and  who  had  sent  them.  "  But  tell  Lorenzo 
dei  Medici,"  he  concluded,  "  he  had  better  repent ; 
for  God  will  call  him  to  judgment  for  his  sins.  Tell 
him  further,  that  I  am  a  stranger  here,  and  he  a 
citizen  of  the  city  ;  I,  however,  shall  remain,  and  he 
depart." 

Lorenzo  received  it  all  as  a  man  of  the  world. 
He  allowed  himself  neither  to  take  offence,  nor  to 
be  induced  to  act  hastily.  He  adopted  another  plan : 
Savonarola,  with  his  prophecies,  should  be  treated 
ad  absurdum.  Among  the  persons  dependent  on 
the  Medici  family,  there  was  a  learned  Augustine 


118  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

monk,  Mariano,  a  Platonist,  and  a  distinguished 
preacher.  His  passion  was  excited.  He  gave  out 
a  sermon  on  the  text,  "It  is  not  for  you  to  know 
the  times  and  the  seasons,  which  the  Father  has  put 
in  his  own  power."  All  the  men  of  intellectual 
importance  in  the  city  were  present ;  and,  when  he 
had  finished,  they  approved  of  the  excellent  dis- 
course. 

Savonarola  accepted  the  challenge.  He  preached 
on  the  same  theme.  But,  while  Mariano  had  laid 
stress  on  the  point  that  it  was  not  the  times  and  the 
seasons  for  us  to  know,  Savonarola  conceived  the 
words  differently :  it  was  for  us  to  know,  but  it  was 
not  for  us  to  know  the  times  and  the  seasons.  He 
excited  those  who  heard  him  to  tears.  He  drew 
over  to  himself  Lorenzo's  own  party  :  the  Count  of 
Mirandula ;  Marsilio  Ficino,  who  had  a  lamp  burn- 
ing before  Plato's  bust,  as  before  that  of  a  saint; 
Poliziano,  the  thorough  classical  scholar,  —  all  felt 
themselves  carried  away  by  him.  The  streams  of 
his  eloquence  poured  forth  as  if  from  heaven. 
There  was  no  opposition  when  he  spoke.  His  words 
were  commands.  They  rooted  themselves  indelibly 
in  men's  minds.  It  seemed  as  if  it  were  possible 
to  change  the  nature  of  men.  Women  rose  up 
suddenly,  laid  aside  their  splendid  garments,  and 
appeared  again  in  modest  attire  ;  enemies  became 
reconciled ;  illegal  gain  was  voluntarily  given  back. 
It  even  happened  that  a  young  and  happy  married 
pair  separated,  and  went  both  of  them  into  the 
cloister.  Vivoli,  who  took  notes  in  church  of 
Savonarola's  sermons,  and  published  them,  relates 


LORENZO'S  DEATH.  119 

that  he  often  could  not  write  further  for  weeping. 
And  at  length  Lorenzo  himself  was  to  bend  to  the 
power  of  this  mind,  or  at  least  to  need  its  consola- 
tion. 

It  was  during  the  Lent  of  the  year  1492,  that  this 
storm  of  mental  excitement  seized  upon  Florence. 
The  sermons  had  ended  with  the  Easter  feast.  Sud- 
denly Lorenzo  was  taken  ill.  He  was  only  forty- 
four  years  old.  Here,  too,  there  was  a  rumor  of 
poison.  The  sickness  was  short.  He  lay  at  Car- 
reggi,  his  country  house,  not  far  from  the  city ;  he 
felt  the  approach  of  death,  bid  his  friends  farewell, 
and  received  the  sacrament,  full  of  humble  resigna- 
tion in  the  promises  of  the  Church. 

Then  at  last  he  asked  for  Savonarola.  We  know 
not  what  passed  between  them.  Poliziano,  in  whose 
letters  is  to  be  found  an  exact  account  of  his  last 
moments,  relates  that  they  separated  reconciled  with 
each  other,  and  that  Savonarola  blessed  Lorenzo. 
Others,  however,  assert  that  he  refused. this  blessing. 
They  relate,  that,  after  Lorenzo  had  consented  to 
two  of  his  requirements,  —  namely,  that  he  should 
believe  on  the  mercy  of  God,  and  should  restore 
all  property  unjustly  taken,  —  Savonarola  at  last 
demanded  that  he  should  give  back  freedom  to  the 
city.  Then  he  turned  his  face  silently  to  the  wall, 
and  Savonarola  left  him. 

2. 

Michael  Angelo  was  probably  among  the  servants 
and  household,  of  whom  it  is  recorded  that  they 
stood  weeping  round  Lorenzo's  couch  during  his 


120  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

last  moments.  So  annihilated  was  he  by  the  losa, 
that  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  collect  his 
thoughts  for  work.  He  left  the  palace,  and  arranged 
for  himself  an  atelier  in  his  father's  house.  Piero, 
Lorenzo's  eldest  son,  took  possession  of  the  govern 
ment.  Throughout  Italy,  the  tidings  of  the  death 
of  the  great  Medici  were  received  as  the  news  of  a 
misfortune  that  concerned  every  one ;  and  the  pre- 
sentiment of  evil  times  increased,  as  they  looked 
forward  to  the  future. 

Lorenzo  is  recorded  to  have  said  of  himself  that 
he  had  three  sons :  the  first  good,  the  second  clever, 
the  third  a  fool.  The  good  one  was  Giuliano,  thir- 
teen years  old  at  the  death  of  his  father ;  the  clever 
one  was  Giovanni,  seventeen  years  old,  but  a  cardi- 
nal already  by  favor  of  the  pope,  whose  son  had 
married  a  daughter  of  Lorenzo's ;  and  the  fool  was 
Piero.  Respecting  him,  Lorenzo  spoke  with  appre- 
hension whenever  he  expressed  his  opinion  to  inti- 
mate friends.  His  eye  saw  too  keenly  not  to  perceive 
the  qualities  of  his  son,  who  had  not  the  art  of 
dissimulation. 

Piero  was  young,  haughty,  and  chivalrous ;  no 
Medici  in  mind,  but  an  Orsini,  like  Clarice,  his 
mother,  and  Alfonsina,  his  wife.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  the  pride  of  these  women  and 
their  imperious  natures,  to  regard  Piero  dei  Medici 
otherwise  than  as  the  legitimate  prince  of  Florence  ; 
and  he  offered  no  resistance  to  the  influence  which 
they  both  exercised  over  him.  The  theory  of  indi- 
rect action,  and  of  allowing  himself  to  be  urged,  was 
not  familiar  to  his  unpractised  mind.  Full  of  bold 


STATE  OF  THINGS  AFTER  LORENZO'S  DEATH.        121 

wishes,  brought  up  in  affluence  like  a  royal  child, 
he  had  "no  idea  of  concealing  the  thoughts  which  he 
cherished.  His  marriage  had  been  celebrated  in 
Naples  by  the  king,  as  though  it  were  in  honor  of 
the  richest  prince.  At  the  marriage  of  the  young 
Sforza  in  Milan,  whither  his  father  had  sent  him, 
lie  had  appeared  as  nothing  else  ;  now,  when  he  had 
the  power  in  his  hands,  and  impelling  circumstances 
and  the  powerful  Orsini  to  urge  him  on,  nothing 
remained  but  to  constitute  himself  Duke  of  Flor- 
ence. 

Opportunity  for  so  doing  appeared  at  once. 
With  Lorenzo's  death,  the  power  vanished  wliich 
had  hitherto  kept  Naples  and  Milan  quiet,  and 
which,  with  subtle  diplomatic  skill,  had  postponed 
the  breach  of  the  peace  in  Italy.  We  find  the  com- 
parison used,  that  Florence,  with  Lorenzo  at  her 
head,  stood  like  a  rocky  dam  between  two  stormy 
seas. 

Italy  was  at  that  time  a  free  land,  and  independent 
of  foreign  policy.  Venice,  with  her  well-established 
nobles  at  her  head  ;  Naples  under  the  Aragonese,  a 
branch  of  the  family  ruling  in  Spain ;  Milan,  with 
Genoa,  under  Sforza,  —  all  three  able  powers  by  land 
and  sea,  —  counterbalanced  each  other.  Lorenzo 
ruled  central  Italy ;  the  small  lords  of  the  Romagna 
were  in  his  pay,  and  the  pope  was  on  the  best  terms 
of  relationship  with  him.  But  in  Milan  the  mischief 
lay  hidden.  Ludovico  Sforza,  the  guardian  of  his 
nephew,  Gian  Galeazzo,  had  completely  usurped  the 
power.  He  allowed  his  ward  to  pine  away  mentally 
and  bodily;  he  was  bringing  the  young  prince  slowly 


122  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

% 

to  death.  But  his  consort,  a  Neapolitan  princess, 
saw  through  the  treachery,  and  urged  her  father  to 
change  by  force  their  insufferable  position.  Sforza 
could  not  alone  have  resisted  Naples.  No  depend- 
ence was  to  be  placed  on  the  friendship  of  Venice ; 
Lorenzo  mediated  as  long  as  he  lived ;  but  now,  on 
his  death,  Naples  was  no  longer  to  be  restrained 
The  first  tiling  that  happened  was  Piero's  alliance 
with  this  power,  and  at  the  same  time  Ludovico's 
appeal  for  help  to  France,  where  a  young  and  ambi- 
tious king  had  ascended  the  throne.  The  death  of 
Innocent  YHL,  and  the  election  of  Alexander  Bor- 
gia to  the  papacy,  completed  the  confusion  which 
was  impending. 

Long  diplomatic  campaigns  took  place  before  war 
actually  broke  out.  The  matter  in  question  was 
not  the  interests  of  nations,  —  of  this  there  was  no 
thought,  —  nor  even  the  caprices  of  princes  alone. 
The  nobles  of  Italy  took  a  passionate  concern  in 
these  disputes.  The  contests  of  corresponding  in- 
trigues were  fought  out  at  the  French  court.  France 
had  been  robbed  of  Naples  by  the  Aragonese.  The 
exiled  Neapolitan  barons,  French  in  their  interests, 
whose  possessions  the  Aragonese  had  given  to  their 
own  adherents,  ardently  seized  the  idea  of  returning 
victoriously  to  their  country ;  the  cardinals,  hostile 
to  Borgia,  —  foremost  among  these  stood  the  Cardinal 
of  San  Piero  in  Vincula,  a  nephew  of  the  old  Sixtus, 
and  the  Cardinal  Ascanio  Sforza,  Ludovico's  brother, 
—  urged  for  war  against  Alexander  VI. ;  the  Floren- 
tine nobles,  anticipating  Piero's  violent  measures, 
hoped  for  deliverance  through  the  French,  and  ad- 


STATE  OF  THINGS  AFTER  LORENZO'S  DEATH.        123 

vocated  the  matter  at  Lyons,  where  the  court  was 
stationed,  and  a  whole  colony  of  Florentine  families 
had  in  time  settled.  Sforza  held  out  the  bait  of  glory, 
and  his  just  claims  to  the  old  legitimate  possession. 

The  Aragonese,  on  the  other  hand,  proposed  an 
accommodation.  Spain,  who  would  not  forsake  her 
belongings,  stood  at  their  side ;  the  pope  and  Piero 
dei  Medici  adhered  to  Naples ;  and  the  French  nobility 
were  not  in  favor  of  an  expedition  to  Italy.  Ven- 
ice remained  neutral;  still  she  might  gain  by  the 
war,  and  she  did  not  dissuade  from  it;  and  this 
opinion,  that  something  was  to  be  gained,  gradually 
took  possession  of  all  parties,  even  of  those  who  had 
at  first  wished  to  preserve  peace. 

Spain  was  a  direct  gainer  from  the  first.  France 
ceded  to  King  Ferdinand  a  disputed  province,  on 
the  condition  that  he  would  afford  no  support  to 
his  Neapolitan  cousins.  Sforza,  as  lord  of  Genoa, 
wished  to  have  Lucca  and  Pisa  again,  with  all  that 
belonged  to  them ;  the  Visconti  had  possessed  them 
of  old,  and  he  raised  their  claims  afresh.  "We  have 
said  what  were  the  hopes  of  Piero  dei  Medici.  Pisa 
hoped  to  become  free.  The  pope  hoped  by  his 
alliance  with  Naples  to  make  the  first  step  towards 
the  attainment  of  the  great  plans  which  he  cherished 
for  himself  and  his  sons ;  he  thought  one  day  of 
dividing  Italy  among  them.  The  French  hoped  to 
conquer  Naples,  and  then  to  drive  away  the  Turks 
in  a  vast  crusade.  As  if  for  a  crusade,  the  king 
raised  the  loan  in  his  own  country,  which  he  re- 
quired for  the  campaign.  The  Venetians  hoped  to 
bring  the  coast  cities  of  the  Adriatic  Sea  as  much 


124  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

as  possible  under  their  authority.  In  the  autumn 
of  1494,  Charles  of  France  placed  himself  at  the 
head  of  his  knights  and  mercenary  troops,  and 
crossed  the  Alps  ;  whilst  his  fleet  and  artillery,  the 
most  fearful  weapon  of  the  French,  went  by  sea  from 
Marseilles  to  Genoa. 

3. 

During  the  two  years  in  which  these  events  took 
place,  Michael  Angelo,  who  was  not  yet  twenty  years 
old,  pursued  his  art  at  his  own  expense.  He  pur- 
chased a  piece  of  marble,  and  executed  a  Hercules 
four  feet  in  height.  This  statue  stood  for  many  years 
hi  the  Strozzi  palace  at  Florence ;  it  was  then  sold 
to  France,  and  has  been  lost. 

A  crucifix  is  besides  mentioned  which  he  executed, 
almost  as  large  as  life,  for  the  church  of  the  mon- 
astery of  San  Spirito,  —  a  work  which  was  of  great 
advantage  to  him ;  for  the  prior  of  the  monastery, 
whose  friendship  he  obtained,  procured  him  corpses 
for  anatomical  studies.  At  the  present  day,  a  cruci- 
fix is  shown  in  San  Spirito,  and  passed  off  as  Michael 
Angelo's  work ;  but  wrongly  so. 

His  removal  from  the  palace  of  the  Medici  had 
therefore  not  broken  up  his  connection  with  the 
family.  A  kind  of  dependent  position  continued  ; 
Piero  reckoned  him  among  his  family,  and  consulted 
him  when  art-matters  were  to  be  purchased.  Inter- 
course, however,  like  that  with  Lorenzo,  was  not 
possible.  The  youth  of  Piero  would  have  prevented 
this.  It  is  true  the  latter  had  received  a  thorough 
scientific  education ;  Latin  and  Greek  were  familiar 


STATE  OF  THINGS  AFTER  LOSENZO'S  DEATH.        125 

to  him:  gifted  with  natural  eloquence,  amiable, 
good-natured,  and  condescending,  he  knew  how, 
when  he  wished,  to  prepossess  men  in  his  favor: 
but  he  liked  best  to  be  pursuing  knightly  exercises, 
and  he  left  it  to  others  to  concern  themselves  with 
the  details  of  government  and  politics.  He  was  a 
handsome  man ;  his  height  exceeded  the  usual 
standard:  he  wished  to  be  the  first  horseman,  the 
best  hand  at  tennis,  the  victor  in  the  tournaments. 
He  was  proud  of  possessing  a  painter  like  Michael 
Angelo ;  he  was,  however,  equally  proud  of  a 
Spaniard,  who  served  in  his  stables,  and  outran 
a  horse  at  full  gallop. 

On  the  night  of  the  22d  January,  1494,  it  snowed 
so  violently  in  Florence,  that  the  snow  lay  in  the 
streets  from  four  to  six  feet  deep.  Piero  sent  for 
Michael  Angelo,  and  made  him  form  a  statue  of  snow 
in  the  court-yard  of  the  palace.  This  order  has  been 
regarded  as  a  mockery  of  his  genius ;  it  must  not  be 
forgotten,  however,  that  Michael  Angelo  was  at  that 
time  a  poor  young  beginner,  who  had  as  yet  done 
nothing.  Just  as  little  as  the  first  artists  of  the  city 
might  hesitate  to  assist  in  the  passing  arrangements 
for  public  festivities,  and  to  prepare  paintings  and 
sculptures  which  were  not  to  last  much  longer  than 
that  snow  statue  of  Michael  Angelo's,  could  he  have 
thought  of  conceiving  the  order  of  the  first  man  in 
Florence  as  derogatory  to  his  honor.  It  may  be  it 
was  this  work  which  turned  Piero' s  attention  to  him 
to  an  increasing  extent.  For  he  took  him  again  to 
the  palace,  gave  him  back  the  room  which  Lorenzo 
had  once  assigned  to  him,  and  made  him  sit  at  his 


126  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

table  as  before.  Who  knows  whether  Michael  Angelo 
may  not  have  taken  part  in  the  feast,  the  magnifi- 
cence of  which,  perhaps,  his  snow  statue  was  to 
enhance  ?  For  Piero  delighted  in  a  merry  life,  as 
his  father  had  done:  the  depressed  feeling,  which 
was  by  degrees  spreading  over  the  city,  could  at  first 
have  only  partially  influenced  men's  minds,  and  the 
old  life  continued  outwardly  its  accustomed  course. 
Nowhere,  however,  were  they  more  sanguine  than 
in  the  palace  of  the  Medici.  Events  were  awaited 
there  with  childlike  repose ;  and  they  doubted  not 
the  continuance  of  good  fortune,  even  when  the  city 
was  agitated  by  tidings  which  awakened  the  general 
feeling  of  a  vast  impending  change.  The  news 
reached  the  city  of  the  first  defeat  of  the  Neapoli- 
tans. 

Naples  had  made  infinite  efforts  to  prevent  the 
breaking-out  of  the  war.  "When  she  had,  however, 
perceived  the  fruitlessness  of  those  efforts,  she  wished 
to  have  the  advantage  of  being  the  aggressor.  The 
Duke  of  Calabria,  the  son  of  the  ruling  sovereign, 
advanced  with  an  army  through  the  Papal  States 
into  the  Romagna ;  Don  Federigo,  the  king's  broth- 
er, set  sail  with  the  fleet  towards  Genoa.  Naples 
was  renowned  as  a  martial  power,  well  schooled  in 
war.  Federigo  hoped  to  take  Genoa,  and  to  oppose 
the  French  vessels.  He  sailed  into  Livorno,  the 
•fortified  harbor  of  the  Florentines.  He  was  splen- 
didly received  by  Piero,  and  provided  with  pro- 
visions. The  hope  of  Tuscany  followed  the  course 
of  his  galleys. 

At  Rapallo,  not  far  from  Genoa,  he  landed  three 


MILITARY   AFFAIRS   IN   ITALY.  127. 

thousand  men.  The  garrison  of  the  city  marched 
out  against  them  with  a  thousand  Swiss,  and  the 
Neapolitans  were  completely  defeated.  Federigo  ven- 
tured no  second  attack,  but  hastened  back  with  his 
fleet  to  Livorno.  The  conviction  thrilled  throughout 
Italy  at  this  first  loss,  that  resistance  was  in  vain. 

This  panic  of  fear  was  possible  in  a  land  in  which 
peace  had  not  been  disturbed  for  generations.  Dis- 
tress and  danger  crush  the  influence  of  higher 
morality.  Man  must  once  in  his  lifetime  feel  him- 
self thrown  upon  his  own  powers ;  a  people  from 
time  to  time  must  merit  anew  the  possession  of  free- 
dom ;  and  the  value  of  simple,  noble  courage,  on 
which  the  general  condition  of  things  depends,  must 
be  publicly  exhibited,  if  every  thing  is  not  to  fall 
into  disorder  and  decay.  Nothing,  perhaps,  was  so 
much  to  blame  for  the  sad  state  of  things  which 
Savonarola  opposed,  as  the  fact  that  the  spirit  of  the 
Italian  people  had  become  unaccustoihed  to  all  mili- 
tary discipline. 

It  is  true  we  read,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  oi 
wars  in  Italy.  They  were  carried  on  by  hired  sol- 
diers. And  how  did  they  fight  in  these  battles  ?  A 
hundred  men  out  of  three  thousand  were  left  on  the 
field  at  Rapallo ;  and  the  land  trembled  in  conse- 
quence. "  This  number  appeared  enormous,"  says 
Guicciardini.  •  At  the  present  day  it  would  appear 
hardly  worth  mentioning.  But  let  us  read  what 
Guicciardini  and  Macchiavelli  relate  of  the  Italian 
warfare  of  the  fifteenth  century,  —  how  long  cam- 
paigns were  made  without  one  serious  collision 
taking  place,  and  how  fearful  battles  were  fought,  in 


128  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

which  not  a  drop  of  blood  was  spilt.  We  hear  of  the 
old  Mexicans,  that  they  went  to  battle  with  wooden 
weapons  that  they  might  not  kill  their  enemies,  since 
they  were  sure  to  receive  afterwards  good  ransom 
for  their  prisoners.  Similar  considerations  had  their 
weight  at  that  time  in  Italy. 

National  troops  were  only  in  the  rarest  cases  en- 
gaged in  the  combat.  The  rule  was,  that  a  prince 
or  a  city  furnished  the  supplies  necessary  by  hiring 
troops.  They  were  not  directly  concerned  in  this ; 
but  they  gave  up  the  whole  business,  including  the 
arming  and  payment,  to  one  or  more  who  undertook 
it,  with  whom  they  concluded  a  contract.  This  was 
the  trade  of  the  higher  and  lower  Italian  nobles. 
They  carried  on  business  in  soldiers.  The  great 
nobles  negotiated  with  the  lesser  ones,  these  with  the 
still  lower,  and  so  down  to  a  single  man.  Venice, 
Florence,  Naples,  Milan,  and  the  pope,  had  their 
army-contractors,  who  undertook  distinct  wars,  and 
promised  to  accomplish  the  defeat  of  the  enemy  in 
the  time  agreed.  These  armies 'for  the  most  part 
might  not  set  foot  in  the  cities  for  which  they  fought, 
nor  even  come  into  contact  with  those  which  they 
had  conquered.  They  were  common  and  despised 
instruments,  and  the  soldiers  were  chiefly  rabble 
gathered  together  from  all  countries. 

Under  these  circumstances  there  could  be  as  little 
enthusiasm  for  a  good  cause,  as  hostility  against 
those  whom  they  opposed.  They  fought  with  the 
utmost  ease.  For  the  most  part,  it  was  heavy-armed 
horse  which  took  the  field.  These,  on  account  of 
the  horses,  could  only  march  out  when  there  was 


MILITARY   AFFAIES   IN   ITALY.  129 

fodder  in  the  land.  In  the  winter,  therefore,  there 
was  no  war.  When,  however,  spring  was  so  far 
advanced  that  they  could  approach  each  other,  and 
a  suitable  battle-field  existed,  what  was  the  object  of 
killing  each  other  then  ?  This  could  bring  advan- 
tage to  no  one ;  while  the  undertakers  of  the  cam- 
paign were  only  mutually  ruining  their  business. 
In  order,  therefore,  to  do  themselves  no  injury,  yet 
to  strike  with  valor,  as  they  had  bound  themselves 
to  do  by  oath,  they  transformed  the  battles  into 
great  tournaments.  They  made  as  many  prisoners 
as  possible,  took  away  their  horses  and  armor,  and 
set  them  free.  If  they  found  new  equipment  at 
home,  few  were  lost.  Armies,  completely  defeated 
and  annihilated,  could  in  this  way  endure  a  hard 
fate  without  having  any  dead ;  and  after  a  short  time 
could  again  appear  on  the  battle-field  in  full  number, 
and  uninjured,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  But 
there  was  a  still  more  simple  means  of  defeating  the 
foe.  They  could  buy  up  his  entire  army  before  his 
face,  and  unite  them  either  with  their  own  forces,  or 
induce  them  at  least  to  retreat.  If  it  came  to  a 
battle,  there  was  no  mention  of  tactics,  still  less  of 
artillery ;  they  pressed  forwards  on  both  sides,  and 
endeavored  to  hold  their  ground.  And  this  method 
of  carrying  on  war  was  so  usual  in  Italy,  and  ap- 
peared at  the  same  time  so  simple  and  logical,  that 
they  scarcely  considered  any  other  possible.  Even 
in  Dante's  time  they  fought  in  this  way.  "  Men," 
said  the  general  to  the  Florentines,  before  the  battle 
of  Campaldino,  "  a  good  attack  is  wont  to  decide  the 
victory  in  our  battles ;  the  contest  is  short ;  few  lose 

6*  I 


130  LIFE    OP    MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

their  lives ;  it  has  not  been  usual  to  kill.  To-day 
we  will  begin  to  do  otherwise."  But  the  old  custom 
held  its  ground.  What  terror  when  they  now  met  a 
nation,  at  Rapallo,  who  actually  killed  those  who 
would  not  yield  to  them !  The  French  fought  like 
living  devils,  it  was  said.  Equally  new  and  fearful 
appeared  the  method  of  the  Swiss,  who,  as  their 
mercenary  troops,  stood  in  solid  battalions  like  mov- 
able walls :  the  most  terrible  of  all,  however,  was  the 
French  artillery.  For  the  first  time,  they  now  saw 
in  Italy  cannons  Tised  otherwise  than  for  sieges,  or 
for  mere  state.  Instead  of  the  balls  of  stone,. which 
used  to  be  hurled  from  immense  iron  barrels,  iron 
balls  now  flew  out  of  brazen  guns,  which  were  not 
dragged  along  slowly  on  heavy  oxen-drawn  car- 
riages, but,  furnished  with  horses  and  used  by  well- 
practised  troops,  kept  pace  with  the  march  of  the 
army.  They  fired  with  fatal  accuracy ;  one  shot 
followed  another  almost  without  interval ;  and  what 
had  before  occupied  long  days,  was  a  matter  of  a  few 
hours  with  them. 

Scarcely  had  they  heard  in  Florence  of  the 
engagement  at  Rapallo,  than  the  tidings  arrived 
that  the  king  was  at  the  head  of  the  army  in  Lorn- 
bardy,  that  a  part  of  his  forces  had  proceeded 
against  the  Romagna,  and  that  the  Duke  of  Cala- 
bria had  retreated.  Piero  had  no  army  in  Tuscany. 
The  French  were  advancing.  Charles  could  have 
passed  through  the  Romagna;  yet  he  declared,  that 
every  deviation  from  the  direct  road  from  Rome  to 
Naples  was  opposed  to  his  kingly  dignity.  A  feeling 
expectant  of  evil  filled  all  minds.  "With  Michael 


MILITARY  AFFAIRS   IN    ITALY.  131 

Angelo,  however,  a  strange  personal  adventure  was 
added  to  this  general  cause  for  anxiety,  the  influence 
of  which  completely  overpowered  him. 

Piero  had  a  certain  Cardiere  with  him,  —  an 
excellent  lute-player  and  improvisatore.  Piero  him- 
self was  considered  a  master  in  this  art,  and  was 
accustomed  every  evening  to  practise  it  after  supper. 
One  morning,  Cardiere  came  to  Michael  Angelo  in 
the  court  of  the  palace,  pale  and  troubled,  drew  him 
aside,  and  told  him  that  Lorenzo  had  appeared  to 
him  in  the  past  night,  in  black  tattered  garments, 
through  which  his  naked  body  might  be  seen,  and 
had  commanded  him  to  tell  his  son  Piero,  that  he 
would  shortly  be  driven  from  his  house,  never  again 
to  return !  "What  did  Michael  Angelo  think  he 
ought  to  do  ? 

The  latter  counselled  him  to  obey  the  command. 
Some  days  after,  Cardiere  came  to  him,  beside  him- 
self with  agitation.  He  had  not  ventured  to  speak 
to  his  master ;  but  now  Lorenzo  had  appeared  to 
him  a  second  time,  had  repeated  what  he  had  before 
said,  and  in  confirmation,  as  a  punishment  of  his 
disobedience,  had  given  him  a  terrible  blow  on  the 
face. 

Michael  Angelo  now  spoke  to  his  conscience  so 
urgently,  that  Cardiere  at  once  resolved  to  tell  all. 
Piero  was  not  in  the  town,  but  at  Careggi.  Car- 
diere set  out  to  go  there.  After  having  gone  some 
way,  he  met  Medici  riding  with  his  suite.  The 
unfortunate  poet  and  lute-player  stopped  his  horse, 
and  begged  him  for  God's  sake  to  stay  and  listen  to 
him.  Upon  this  he  laid  the  matter  before  him. 


132  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Piero  laughed  at  him,  and  the  rest  of  the  company 
likewise.  His  chancellor,  Bibbiena,  whose  rule  had 
made  him  especially  hated  (he  was  afterwards  the 
cardinal  whom  Raphael  painted,  and  whose  niece 
Maria  he  was  to  have  married),  said  scornfully  to 
Cardiere,  "  Fool !  do  you  think  Lorenzo  gives  you 
so  much  honor  before  his  own  son,  that  he  would 
not  appear  to  himself,  instead  of  to  you,  to  commu- 
nicate such  important  things,  if  they  were  true  ? " 
With  this  they  left  him  standing,  and  rode  on. 
Cardiere  then  returned  to  the  palace ;  and,  deploring 
his  fate  to  Michael  Angelo,  he  gave  him  once  more 
the  most  lively  description  of  his  vision. 

Michael  Angelo  was  just  as  much  agitated  at  the 
infatuation  of  the  Medici  as  at  the  meaning  of  the 
apparition.  The  ruin  of  the  Medici  seemed  to  him 
unavoidable :  a  sudden  fear  seized  him.  Belief  in 
supernatural  signs  of  Providence,  which  belonged 
by  nature  to  the  Florentines,  had  been  increased  to 
the  greatest  extent  by  the  late  events.  What  they 
were  now  undergoing  was  the  fulfilment  of  the 
events  which  Savonarola  had  preached.  And  this 
was  only  the  beginning !  '  More  terrible  things  he 
had  predicted,  the  realization  of  which  they  had 
to  expect.  And  Heaven  had  not  intimated  the 
momentous  future  by  his  mouth  alone.  Tokens  of 
unmistakable  meaning  were  added :  sacred  pic- 
tures and  statues  emitted  blood  ;  in  Apulia  three 
suns  were  seen  at  once  by  night  in  the  sky;  in 
Arezzo,  day  by  day,  troops  of  armed  men  were  seen 
fighting  on  immense  horses,  and  marching  along 
with  terrible  noise.  The  people  belierved  in  these 


FLIGHT  TO   YENICE.  133 

appearances  with  the  same  confidence  as  they  had 
done  a  thousand  years  before.  As  in  Suetonius  we 
find  flashes  of  lightning  foretelling  Caesar's  death, 
we  read  in  Florentine  authors  how,  just  before  the 
death  of  Lorenzo  Medici,  a  deafening  thunderclap 
burst,  and  shattered  the  spire  of  Santa  Maria  del 
Fiore ;  how  the  lions  which  were  kept  by  the  city 
attacked  and  lacerated  each  other;  how  a  bright 
star  stood  over  Careggi,  the  light  of  which  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  until  it  was  extinguished  at  the 
same  moment  that  Lorenzo's  soul  took  flight. 

If  we  add  to  this  the  death  of  Poliziano,  who, 
about  this  time,  ended  his  career  half  insane,  while 
Marsilio  Ficino  was  devoted  to  Savonarola's  doc- 
trines ;  if  we  see  the  whole  world  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  supernatural  fear  which  oppressed  all 
minds,  and  Piero  alone,  with  a  few  adherents, 
opposed  to  the  universal  feeling,  —  we  understand 
how  a  young  man,  who  is  sufficiently  independent 
as  a  free  Florentine  to  acknowledge  no  lord  over 
him,  abandons  the  family  who  seemed  sinking  to 
ruin,  and  that  he  might  not  be  involved  in  the  great 
destruction,  or  obliged  to  fight  for  a  cause  which  he 
could  not  acknowledge  as  the  right  one,  is  at  length 
driven,  by  these  special  tokens,  to  resolve  to  seek 
safety  in  flight.  Two  days*  he  hesitated  whether  to 
remain ;  on  the  third  he  left  the  city  with  two 
friends,  and  fled  to  Venice. 

4. 

Had  they  ridden  straight  on,  on  good  horses,  the 
journey  would  have  occupied  about  a  week.  But 


134  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

the  French  were  in  the  Romagna.  A  longer  time, 
therefore,  must  be  given  to  it.  All  the  quicker  did 
they  intend  to  get  settled  in  Venice,  once  they 
reached  it.  Michael  Angelo  was  the  only  one  who 
had  money ;  his  funds  soon  declined,  and  the  party 
resolved  to  return  to  Florence. 

Thus  they  again  arrived  at  Bologna,  where  the 
Bentivogli  were  the  ruling  family.  They  had  only  a 
short  time  before  risen  into  decided  superiority,  and 
they  knew  how  to  keep  so.  The  houses  hostilely 
disposed  to  them  had  been  rendered  harmless  by 
banishment  or  even  murder ;  the  citizens  were  kept 
in  check  by  severe  laws  and  taxes.  Among  these 
laws  there  was  one  which  was  executed  in  a  strange 
manner.  Every  foreigner  entering  the  gates  had  to 
present  himself,  and  receive  as  permission  a  seal  of 
red  wax  on  his  thumb;  whoever  neglected  this 
incurred  a  considerable  fine.  Michael  Angelo  and 
his  friends  entered  the  city  gaily,  but  with  no  seal 
on  their  thumbs :  they  were  seized,  brought  before 
the  tribunal,  sentenced  to  pay  fifty  lire ;  and,  as  they 
could  not  afford  this,  they  were  for  the  time  de- 
tained. 

By  chance,  in  this  distress,  they  were  seen  by  one 
of  the  first  men  in  Bologna,  M.  Gianfrancesco 
Aldovrandi,  a  member  of  the  council,  and  head  of 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  families.  He  had 
the  case  represented,  set  Michael  Angelo  free,  and 
invited  him,  when  he  heard  he  was  a  sculptor,  into 
his  own  house.  Michael,  however,  declined  the 
honor.  He  was  not  alone,  and  could  not  leave  his 
friends,  who  were  thrown  upon  him;  with  them, 


THE  FRENCH  IN  TUSCANY.          135 

however,  all  three,  they  would  not  intrude  upon 
him.  "Oh!"  cried  Aldovrandi,  "if  things  stand 
so,  I  must  beg  you  to  take  me  also,  to  roam  about 
the  world  at  your  expense."  This  jest  brought 
Michael  Angelo  to  a  more  practical  view  of  things. 
He  gave  his  travelling  companions  the  rest  of  his 
money,  bade  them  farewell,  and  followed  his  new 
patron.  And  this  was  about  the  most  sensible  thing 
he  could  have  done ;  for  scarcely  had  a  few  days 
elapsed  than  the  Medici,  —  Piero  and  his  brothers, 
—  and  as  many  of  their  adherents  as  still  followed 
them,  arrived  at  Bologna  on  their  flight ;  for  Lor- 
enzo's prophecy  had  been  fulfilled  in  Florence. 

About  the  same  time  that  Michael  Angelo  had 
made  his  escape  to  Venice,  the  French  had  set  foot 
in  Tuscany.  The  king,  who  well  knew  how  disposed 
the  citizens  were  to  the  French,  wished  to  try  his 
uttermost  before  appearing  as  an  enemy.  He  had 
once  more  demanded  a  free  passage ;  Piero  had 
again  refused  it.  This  was  a  challenge.  A  part  of 
the  army  came  from  Genoa  along  the  sea-shore  ;  the 
main  forces  marched  with  their  king  southward  from 
Pavia  to  the  Apennines,  and  crossed  them  just  where 
the  Genoese  and  Florentine  territories  meet  on  the 
narrow  coast-land. 

Here  lay  a  number  of  fortified  places,  which 
Lorenzo  had  obtained  ;  and  which  now,  occupied  by 
Piero's  men,  had  they  afforded  resistance,  could 
have  kept  the  whole  of  Tuscany  shut  out.  Th« 
neighborhood  was  marshy,  cold,  and  unhealthy. 
Provisions  had  to  be  brought  by  ship  from  a  distance. 
The  forces  of  the  king  consisted  for  the  most  part  of 


136  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

hired  troops,  well  disposed  to  mutiny,  among  whom 
violent  commotions  had  already  taken  place ;  a 
sojourn  at  this  spot  would  have  been  as  fatal  to  the 
French  as  a  lost  battle. 

Piero's  condition  was  therefore  not  utterly  hope- 
less. He  had  the  Orsini  with  some  troops  in  the 
country  to  bring  relief  to  the  threatened  fortresses.' 
Mountain  passes,  easily  defended,  protected  him  from 
Obigni,  who  was  approaching  from  the  Romagna.  He 
need  not  have  lost  courage. 

But  he  was  not  master  of  his  city.  Florence  per- 
ceived more  and  more  that  the  king  was  waging  war 
only  against  the  Medici,  and  not  against  her  citizens. 
Charles,  from  the  first,  when  Piero  had  declared 
against  him,  had  left  the  Florentine  merchants  in 
Lyons  unmolested  ;  he  had  compelled  the  Medici 
alone  to  close  their  bank.  It  is  said  that  the  Floren- 
tine nobles  in  France  even  urged  to  the  war.  They 
looked  to  Charles  as  a  liberator.  As  early  as  the 
year  1493,  Savonarola,  at  the  invitation  of  the  Gov- 
ernment, had  given  his  opinion  of  the  best  form  of 
government  for  the  city,  and  had  exhibited,  in  so 
doing,  with  cutting  severity,  Piero's  cupidity,  when, 
instead  of  mentioning  any  name,  he  had  only  gene- 
rally described  a  prince,  as  he  would  rule  and  must 
have  ruled,  to  constitute  himself  the  tyrant  of  a  free 
city.  It  is  a  brilliant  piece  of  writing,  which,  com- 
posed with  cold,  statesmanlike  perception,  but  also 
with  the  passionate  energy  of  party  feeling,  as  truly 
characterized  the  present  position  of  things,  as  Mac- 
chiavelli's  book,  "  The  Prince,"  twenty  years  later, 
afforded  a  picture  of  circumstances  entirely  different. 


PIERO   DEI   MEDICI'S   TREACHERY.  137 

i 

Savonarola's  power  increased  visibly  at  that  time. 
Politics  and  theology  were  equally  important  with 
him.  He  forced  himself  upon  others  no  more  than 
he  was  sought.  Hatred  of  the  Medici  was  less  and 
less  concealed.  Piero  was  obliged  to  resolve  upon 
extreme  measures,  if  he  would  hold  his  ground. 

The  Duke  of  Montpensier,  with  the  vanguard  of 
the  royal  army,  had  just  arrived  on  this  side  of  the 
Apennines,  and  had  joined  the  troops  advancing 
from  Genoa.  He  bombarded  Fivizzano,  the  first  of 
those  small  Florentine  forts;  he  made  breaches, 
storme'd  the  place,  and  completely  cut  to  pieces  the 
garrison  and  the  inhabitants. 

Still,  nothing  was  lost,  and  Tuscany  was  as  safe 
as  before  under  the  protection  of  the  remaining 
fortresses ;  but  the  tidings  of  the  outrages  of  the 
French  placed  Florence  in  commotion.  Piero  per 
ceived  his  position  for  the  first  time  in  its  true  light. 
He  saw  himself  abandoned  and  betrayed.  He 
wanted  money :  he  wished  to  borrow ;  but  his  best 
friends  made  difficulties,  and  appeared  inexorable. 
No  succor  was  to  be  expected  from  Naples  ;  no 
reliance  could  be  placed  on  Alexander  Borgia: 
Milanese  agents  excited  the  people  to  revolt  in  Pisa ; 
for  Sforza  wished  to  bring  under  his  authority  ihe 
entire  coast  of  Tuscany,  Lucca,  Livorno,  and  Pisa, 
and  he  it  was  who  had  most  of  all  incited  the  king  to 
advance  upon  Tuscany.  In  Pisa  they  were  prepared 
for  nothing.  Piero  ordered  in  great  haste  that  the 
citadel  at  least  should  be  provided  with  ammunition. 
But  what  could  lie  do  in  Florence  herself,  who  had 
no  other  garrison  than  her  own  armed  citizens,  and 


138  fcJFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

where  rebellion  was  showing  itself?  In  this  stale 
of  things,  Piero  took  a  step  which,  if  it  had  had 
better  success,  would  have  been  esteemed  the  act  of 
a  resolute  man,  who,  feeling  his  position,  ventured 
to  make  use  of  his  last  expedient ;  but  which,  as  it 
unfortunately  ended  in  evil,  has  been  judged  of 
differently :  he  gave  himself  unconquered  into  the 
hands  of  the  king. 

Had  he  fled  to  Naples  or  Venice,  the  only  places 
that  were  open  to  him,  the  Florentines  would  have 
immediately  made  peace  with  Charles  VIII.,  would 
have  transferred  to  him  the  old  dignity  of  Protector 
of  Florentine  liberty,  and  have  concluded  an  alliance 
which  would  have  deprived  the  Medici  of  sovereignty 
for  ever.  .  Far  better  to  place  at  the  feet  of  the  king 
what  he  yet  possessed,  and  perhaps  demand,  as  a 
reward  from  him,  what  Naples  could  now  no  longer 
supply. 

Piero  wished  to  return  to  the  city  as  Duke  of 
Florence,  when  he  undertook  the  direction  of  an 
embassy,  which  was  to  treat  with  the  king  in  the 
name  of  the  Government.  On  the  way  they  heard 
how  Paolo  Orsini  had  in  vain  attempted  to  throw 
himself  upon  Sarzana  with  three  hundred  men.  At 
Pietrasanta,  Piero  left  his  companions  behind,  and 
repaired  alone,  under  French  escort,  to  the  head- 
quarters at  Pontremoli. 

The  appearance  of  the  great  Lombard,  by  which 
name  Piero  had  been,  like  his  father,  known  in 
France,  where  all  Italians  rvere  considered  as  Lom- 
bards, excited  astonishment  in  the  camp.  Still  more 
so  the  disgraceful  offers  made  by  him  Sarzana, 


PIERO    DEI   MEDICI'S   TREACHERY.  139 

won  by  his  father,  and  fortified  at  immense  expense  ; 
Montpensier,  which  had  been  blockaded  in  vain  ;  the 
other  fortresses,  besides  Livorno  and  Pisa,  —  he  was 
willing  voluntarily  to  give  up.  Florence  was  to 
unite  with  Charles,  to  place  herself  under  his  pro- 
tection, and  to  lend  two  hundred  thousand  ducats 
for  carrying  on  the  war. 

On  these  conditions,  Piero  was  admitted  to  favor. 
What  he  demanded  for  himself,  and  obtained,  is 
shown  by  his  appearance  in  Florence,  whither  he 
now  prepared  to  return,  accompanied  by  his  troops, 
whom  he  no  longer  required  against  the  French. 
But  the  embassy,  at  the  head  of  which  he  had  set 
forth,  had  arrived  there  before  him,  and  had  given 
information  of  what  had  happened.  Piero's  inde- 
pendent proceedings,  which  could  not  be  at  once 
known  in  their  full  extent,  excited  indignation  even 
among  the  most  faithful  adherents  of  the  Medici. 
Nevertheless,  they  kept  their  feelings  towards  him 
within  bounds.  A  second  embassy  was  at  once 
appointed,  and  during  Piero's  absence  its  members 
were  chosen.  It  consisted  of  five  men,  among  them 
Savonarola.  He  it  was  who  in  Lucca,  where  they 
met  the  king,  was  appointed  spokesman.  He  spoke 
of  the  freedom  and  innocence  of  the  Florentine 
people,  and  demanded  positive  security.  Charles 
gave  an  evasive  reply.  Savonarola's  fame  had  long 
ago  penetrated  to  France,  and  the  king  feared  the 
man,  perhaps  honored  him ;  but  he  had  gone  too 
far  with  Piero.  The  latter,  who  was  still  with  him, 
as  soon  as  he  saw  the  five,  knew  how  things  stood  in 
Florence.  Under  pretext  of  hastening  forwards  and 


140  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

preparing  the  reception  of  the  king  at  Pisa,  he  with 
drew,  and  hurried  on  to  Florence.  Paolo  Orsini 
gathered  together  whatever  soldiers  were  to  be  raised 
at  the  moment,  and  followed  him. 

At  evening,  on  the  8th  November,  Piero  was  back 
in  the  city;  on  the^  morning  of  the  9th,  he  appeared 
before  the  palace  of  the  Government.  He  wished  to 
enter,  to  sound  the  great  bell,  convoke  the  parliament, 
and  overthrow  the  constitution.  One  of  the  most 
distinguished  citizens,  Luca  Corsini,  met  him  and 
drew  him  back.  What  business  had  he  here  ?  he 
asked.  Piero  saw  himself  and  his  suite  driven  out  : 
the  people  stood  in  dense  groups  round,  and  looked 
on  to  see  what  would  follow.  Single  voices  called 
to  him,  that  he  might  go  wherever  he  liked. 
Suddenly  there  rose  a  clamor,  a  cry  of  "  Liberta, 
liberta, !  popolo,  popolo  !  "  the  children  called,  and 
threw  stones  at  the  Medici  and  those  who  ac- 
companied him.  No  one  had  arms  ;  but  the  deport- 
ment of  the  people  and  the  cry  agitated  Piero,  so 
that  he  withdrew.  Then  came  the  minister  of 
police  with  his  men,  and  attempted  to  clear  the 
place.  This  was  the  signal  for  the  outbreak.  The 
fury  turned  against  him,  the  palace  of  'the  po- 
lice was  stormed,  and  the  prisoners  were  set  at 
liberty. 

Piero  had  again  arrived  at  the  palace  of  the 
Medici,  and  sent  messengers  to  Paolo  Orsini,  who 
was  encamped  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city. 
But  even  the  nobles  of  the  Government  felt  that  they 
must  act.  The  tocsin  was  sounded ;  and,  from  all 
parts  of  the  city,  the  citizens  poured  forth  in  arms 


v 


PIERO    DEI   MEDICI'S    TREACHERY.  141 

to  the  square.     Once  more  the  Medici  attempted  to 
advance. 

Giovanni,  the  cardinal,  afterwards  Leo  X.,  whose 
affable  behavior  had  at  all  times  contrasted  agree- 
ably with  the  proud  bearing  of  Piero,  and  who  was 
the  most  beloved  by  the  citizens  of  the  three  brothers, 
was  the  first  to  appear,  and  address  the  people. 
Piero,  with  Giuliano  and  Orsini,  intended  to  follow 
with  the  troops.  But  Giovanni  was  thrust  back 
before  he  reached  the  square  ;  upon  the  others,  as 
they  appeared  with  the  troops,  stones  were  hurled 
from  the  windows,  and  they  ventured  not  to  advance 
further.  The  people  led  the  attack.  Giovanni  fled 
to  San  Marco ;  refused  admittance  there,  he  saved 
himself  disguised  as  a  monk,  and  passed  through  the 
city  gates.  Piero  and  his  party  followed  him.  Once 
more  in  the  suburbs,  they  attempted  to  distribute 
money,"  and  to  excite  the  lower  classes  of  the  inhab 
itauts  to  revolt ;  but,  as  they  met  with  only  stones 
in  return,  they  hastened  quickly  forwards,  until 
speed  became  actual  flight.  'And  thus  they  proceeded 
to  Bologna. 

5, 

Thus  Michael  Angblo  aguin  met  his  patrons,  who 
were  received  with  reproaches  irom  Bentivoglio. 
Personally  they  had  injured  their  cause  by  fleeing 
without  active  resistance ;  ana,  by  their  defeat,  they 
had  at  the  same  time  set  the  worst  example  to  all 
other  families  who  were  in  a  similar  position. 
Bentivoglio  thought  of  his  own  house.  In  later 
tunes,  the  Medici  could  have  retorted  upon  him 


142  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

word  for  word ;  for  his  fate  proved  no  better  than 
theirs.  The  brothers,  who  did  not  feel  themselves 
safe  in  Bologna,  proceeded  on  to  Venice  after  a 
short  sojourn.  Michael  Angelo  remained  in  the 
Aldovrandi  palace  ;  for  it  was  not  now  expedient 
to  return  to  Florence.  Gianfrancesco  treated  him 
in  the  most  honorable  manner.  Michael  Angelo's 
whole  conduct,  and  the  versatility  of  his  nature, 
pleased  him.  Of  an  evening  he  sat  at  his  bedside, 
and  read  to  him  Dante  or  Petrarca,  or  something 
from  Boccaccio's  tales,  till  he  went  to  sleep. 

He  found  also  artistic  occupation.  In  the  Church 
of  San  Petronio,  an  immense  Gothic  building  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  there  is  to  this  day  the  marble 
coffin  which  contains  the  bones  of  St.  Domenico. 
It  was  executed  by  Nicola  Pisano,  a  contemporary 
of  Cimabue,  the  earliest  sculptor,  whose  works  are 
regarded  as  the  commencement  of  modern  sculpture. 
The  bas-reliefs  surrounding  it  exhibit  a  certain  rude 
magnificence,  and  are  superior  to  any  thing  pro- 
duced by  painting  at  that  time.  For,  while  the  latter 
was  compelled  to  keep  to  the  forms  of  the  living  By- 
zantine masters,  sculpture  imitated  the  few  remains 
of  the  ancient  artists,  and  in  so  doing  flourished. 
So  widely  divided  were  the  sources  from  which  the 
two  arts  drew  new  life. 

Nicola's  work  became  subsequently  enlarged. 
A-bove,  on  the  sarcophagus,  two  kneeling  figures 
were  to  be  placed,  only  one  of  which,  however,  ex- 
isted ;  and  this  was  unfinished  in  its  drapery.  The 
first  sculptor  in  Bologna  at  that  time,  Nicolo  Schiavi, 
had  been  occupied  with  this  work,  when  death  had 


RETURN    TO    FLORENCE,    1495.  143 

put  a  stop  to  it  in  the  spring  of  1494.  Aldovrandi 
took  Michael  Angelo  to  San  Petronio,  and  asked 
him  whether  he  could  venture  to  undertake  the 
whole.  He  could  well  trust  himself  to  do  so.  They 
gave  him  thirty  ducats  for  it ;  twelve  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  one  figure,  and  eighteen  for  thai 
which  had  to  be  newly  executed,  —  a  kneeling  angel 
holding  a  candelabrum.  This  work  is  the  only  one 
which  he  accomplished  during  almost  a  year's  resi- 
dence at  Bologna.  It  was  the  cause  of  his  being 
obliged  to  leave  the  city. 

The  jealousy  felt  by  native  workmen  towards  for- 
eign ones  is  well  known ;  but,  in  matters  of  art,  it 
frequently  amounts  to  hatred.  Vasari  speaks  often 
of  this.  The  Bolognese  artists  were  notorious  for 
their  hostile  feeling  to  strangers,  a  blame  which 
attaches  also  to  those  of  Perugia.  The  honorable 
commission  which  fell  to  the  lot  of  Michael  Angelo, 
the  Florentine  adventurer  of  twenty  years  of  age, 
excited  such  rebellion  that  it  came  to  threats.  One 
Bolognese  sculptor  declared,  that  this  work  belonged 
to  him,  that  it  was  first  promised  to  him,  and  had 
been  now  purloined  by  Michael  Angelo,  and  that  lie 
had  better  look  to  it.  Nor  was  this  the  only  one 
who  interfered  with  him ;  so  he  preferred  returning 
to  his  native  city. 

What  must  have  strengthened  him  in  this  resolve 
was  the  more  settled  state  to  which  Florence  had 
been  restored  during  his  absence.  But  how 
changed  did  he  find  every  thing !  Ho  aad  left  the 
city  when  but  a  slender  branch  from  the  power  of 
the  Medici  had  been  violently  broken  off :  and  now 


144  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL,   ANGELO. 

lie  saw  the  full  tree,  which  had  spread  out  its  shadow 
so  far,  destroyed  to  the  very  root.  The  palace  of 
the  family  stood  empty,  and  robbed  of  its  art-treas- 
ures. A  party  was  in  authority,  in  whose  ears  it 
sounded  like  treason,  if  the  name  of  Medici  was 
uttered  with  any  but  the  most  hostile  accent.  The 
gardens  of  San  Marco  were  laid  waste ;  their  statues 
and  pictures  sold  to  the  highest  bidder,  and  dis- 
persed over  the  world.  Many  of  the  artists  had 
left ;  others,  as  followers  of  Savonarola,  condemned 
what  they  had  before  executed  so  freely  and  joyfully. 
Lorenzo  da  Credi,  Verrochio's  pupil  and  Leonardo's 
friend ;  Baccio  della  Porta,  well  known  as  Fra  Bar- 
tolomeo ;  Cronaca,  the  architect ;  and  Botticelli, 
Filippo  Lippi's  pupil,  —  struggled  with  their  con- 
sciences whether  the  exquisite  works  which  they  had 
produced  were  not  works  of  the  devil.  And,  in 
keeping  with  this,  public  morality  was  watched  over 
by  the  Government  with  the  keenest  surveillance, 
even  in  the  interior  of  families. 

Such  was  the  result  of  the  events  which  had 
occurred  during  the  year  spent  by  Michael  Angelo 
at  Bologna. 

At  the  same  moment  in  which  Florence  had 
revolted  and  Piero  had  fled,  the  insurrection  in 
Pisa  had  broken  out.  Here,  however,  they  were 
not  rebelling  against  the  Medici,  but  against  the 
Florentine  yoke,  which  had  pressed  insufferably 
upon  the  unhappy  city.  It  was  the  declared  policy 
of  Florence  to  ruin  Pisa  by  degrees.  Her  citizens 
now  turned  imploringly  to  the  King  of  France,  and 
begged  for  protection ;  which  he  promised  them. 


CHARLES   VIII.  145 

Charles  never  considered  consequences,  or  weighed 
promises  made  by  him  in  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 
He  was  young,  good-natured,  and  intoxicated  bj 
the  success  which,  with  unwearied  fidelity,  accom- 
panied his  steps.  Guicciardini  calls  him  small  and 
dwarf-like,  with  six  toes  on  each  foot,  —  a  monster  ; 
but,  he  adds,  his  bold  glance  betrayed  the  king. 
Accessible  to  every  influence,  continually  surround- 
ed by  powerful,  intriguing  men,  who  hated  and 
endeavored  to  ruin  each  other,  and  to  all  of  whom  by 
turns  he  lent  a  favorable  ear,  he  contradicted  himself 
constantly  in  resolves  and  solemn  promises  ;  and,  in 
spite  of  this,  so  long  as  his  good  fortune  lasted,  he 
succeeded  in  that  impossible  thing  of  accommodating, 
himself  to  all.  He  now  guaranteed  to  the  Pisans 
their  freedom ;  and,  in  the  same  breath,  he  insisted 
that  the  Florentine  justiciaries  should  remain  at  their 
posts  there,  and  that  they  should  be  obeyed.  He  had 
promised  the  very  same  thing  to  Piero  dei  Medici. 

The  French  army  divided  at  Pisa.  Cardinal 
Vincula  went  with  the  fleet  to  Ostia,  his  city,  which 
he  kept  garrisoned,  that  he  might  from  thence  attack 
Borgia  in  the  territory  of  the  Church.  Of  the  land 
forces,  the  greater  part  of  the  army  marched  south 
to  Siena;  the  other  half  accompanied  the  king  to 
Florence  to  make  a  solemn  entry  there.  Thither 
came  also  Obigni  across  the  mountains  from  the 
Romagna. 

While  Charles  was  staying  in  Pisa,  the  Medici  in 
Florence  had  been  declared  rebels  and  enemies  to 
the  country.  Their  palaces,  and  those  of  their 
counsellors,  had  been  stormed  and  plundered  by 


140  LIFE  OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  people,  and  only  with  difficulty  was  the  principal 
palace  of  the  family  saved,  in  which  Lorenzo's 
widow  and  Piero's  consort  still  remained.  Into  the 
hands  of  these  two  women  the  king  fell,  when  he 
alighted  at  the  palace  of  the  Medici,  and  appropri- 
ated to  himself  and  his  suite  all  the  valuables  which 
had  been  saved  from  the  first  storm.  For  the  sake 
of  form,  the  old  claims  were  urged  which  France 
had  upon  the  Medici.  Nevertheless,  the  tears  and 
entreaties  in  favor  of  Piero,  and  the  accusations 
against  the  fickle  Florentine  people,  had  their 
effect.  Charles  had  surely  promised  the  citizens, 
before  he  entered  the  city  in  a  magnificent  and 
solemn  procession,  that  he  approved  of  all  that  had 
been  done.  He  had  allowed  himself  to  be  received 
by  the  new  Government  of  the  city,  and  conducted 
to  the  cathedral,  surrounded  by  the  people,  shouting 
"  Francia !  Francia ! "  and  then,  having  alighted  at 
the  palace  of  the  Medici,  and  being  alone  with 
Clarice  and  Alfonsina,  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
prevailed  on  so  far,  that  messengers  were  dispatched 
to  Bologna  to  bring  back  Piero,  whom  the  king  was 
to  re-instate  in  his  position.  But  the  Medici  had 
long  ago  fled  to  Venice.  He  now  demanded  from 
the  city  their  formal  re-installment,  and  the  reception 
of  a  standing  French  garrison.  The  position  was  a 
critical  one.  Florence  was  filled  with  the  king's 
knights  and  mercenary  troops,  whose  insolence  led 
to  disputes.  Italian  prisoners,  whom  the  French 
dragged  through  the  streets  like  driven  cattle,  were 
liberated  by  force  by  Florentine  citizens.  The  nego- 
tiations in  the  palace  led  to  no  end.  With  regard 


CHARLES   VIII.    IN    FLORENCE.  147 

to  the  Medici,  Charles  at  length  yielded ;  but  the 
sum  which  he  required  as  a  contribution  to  his 
military  chest  was  exorbitant.  He  persisted  in  his 
demands.  "  If  you  do  not  consent,"  he  cried, 
abruptly,  "  I  shall  order  my  trumpets  to  blow." 
"  And  we  shall  ring  our  bell ! "  cried  Pier  Capponi, 
in  a  tone  which  sounded  no  less  threatening,  as  he 
tore  in  pieces  the  contract  which  had  just  been 
drawn  up,  and  turned  to  go  away  with  the  other 
citizens,  none  of  whom  denied  his  boldness. 

The  king  allowed  them  to  reach  the  great  steps 
of  the  palace ;  then  he  called  back  Capponi,  who 
had  been  known  to  him  in  Lyons,  made  a  jest  of 
the  matter,  and  behaved  as  if  he  let  his  words  pass 
unnoticed  for  the  sake  of  the  old  friendship, — 
words  which  have  since  acquired  such  celebrity  in 
Florence,  that  there  is  no  Florentine  of  the  present 
day  who  cannot  tell  of  that  retort.  They  agreed  to  a 
more  just  treaty,  and  solemnly  swore  to  it.  Charles 
assumed  the  title  of  "  Restorer  and  Protector  of 
Florentine  liberty ; "  the  city  bore  his  standard ;  he 
withdrew,  only  retaining  the  cities  given  up  by 
Piero  until  the  conquest  of  Naples.  One  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  gold  florins  were  contributed ; 
a  new  commercial  treaty  with  France  was  estab- 
lished. The  Medici  were  to  have  the  right  of  regu- 
lating their  affairs  in  the  city,  but  not,  of  course, 
in  person.  On  the  28th  November,  1494,  Charles 
withdrew  to  Siena.  A  fermenting  chaos  of  enthu- 
siasm, ambition,  self-interest,  fanaticism,  and  good- 
will, was  left  behind,  struggling  in  itself  for  stability 
and  form. 


148  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  obtain  this.  They  had 
driven  away  the  Medici,  and  yet  the  Government, 
which  had  been  formed  by  themselves  from  their 
own  adherents,  was  left  in  office.  These  men  had- 
indeed  placed  themselves  at  the  head  of  the  tumult 
in  the  storm  of  general  rebellion ;  their  conduct  in 
so  disinterested  a  course  of  action  appeared  all  the 
brighter.  After  the  departure  of  Charles,  they 
called  a  parliament,  which,  according  to  custom, 
provided  a  number  of  men  with  dictatorial  power 
on  behalf  of  the  new  appointment  to  the  offices  of 
the  State.  The  members  of  the  old  Government 
were  chosen,  and  in  this  way  the  highest  confidence 
was  shown  in  them.  In  the  meanwhile,  these  men, 
and  the  friends  of  the  Medici  in  general,  came  to 
their  senses.  They  felt  that  they  had  acted  over- 
hastily,  and  saw  themselves  in  possession  of  power. 
Notorious  characters,  known  as  enemies  of  the 
Medici,  were  now  passed  over  in.  the  allotment  of 
places.  A  number  of  the  greatest  families,  with 
powerful  men  at  their  head,  felt  themselves  injured. 
The  citizens  began  to  be  restless.  Savonarola  had 
his  plans  also.  Others  thought  only  of  themselves, 
—  he,  however,  of  the  subjects  to  which  he  had 
devoted  himself. 

His  sermons  began  again  in  the  Lent  of  the  year 
1495.  He  urged  for  a  total  change  of  things.  He 
wished  to  remodel  the  city  morally  and  politically. 
He  pointed  unremittingly  to  her  evils.  He  had  in 
view  the  grandest  object,  —  a  remodelling  of  Italy ; 
and  his  first  effort  towards  its  attainment  was  the 
reformation  of  heart  in  each  individual  listener. 


CHAELES   VIII.    ADVANCE   TO    NAPLES.  149 

He  preached  kindness  and  reconciliation,  but  woe 
to  those  who  did  not  obey  his  words !  According  to 
his  idea,  the  will  of  an  assembly  of  all  the  citizens 
entitled  to  vote  ought  to  stand  at  the  head  of  the 
State  as  the  supreme  power.  There  would  be  in 
the  whole  of  Florence  about  two  thousand  men,  who 
in  this  sense  would  be  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  right 
of  citizens.  These  should  assemble  in  the  palace 
of  the  Government  as  a  great  council,  —  consiglio 
grande;  and  the  decree  of  the  majority  should  be 
absolute  in  Florence. 

Before  the  middle  of  the  year,  the  party  of  the 
Medici  had  been  driven  from  their  position  in  the 
Government,  and  the  consiglio  grande  had  been 
constituted.  Savonarola  had  done  it  all.  He  ruled 
the  majority,  to  whom  he  communicated  his  peremp- 
tory commands  in  the  name  of  God.  Francesco 
Valori  and  Paolantonio  Soderini,  adherents  of  his 
doctrine,  and  bitter  enemies  of  the  Medici,  both  of 
whom  had  at  first  been  passed  over  in  the  distri- 
bution of  places,  stood  with  him  as  leaders  of  the 
ruling  party,  as  the  mightiest  men  in  the  State. 
They  had  two  aims  before  them,  —  at  home,  the 
accomplishment  of  reform  ;  abroad,  the  recovery  of 
Pisa  and  the  'other  cities  which  were  in  the  power 
•of  the  French  :  for,  although  Florence  had  no  French 
garrison  within  her  walls,  so  long  as  Pisa  and  Livor- 
no  belonged  to  France,  Florence  was  also  depend- 
ent on  her. 

Charles's  advance  to  Naples  was  a  triumphal  pro- 
cession. Almost  all  French  wars  in  Italy  have 
begun  with  the  dazzling  splendor  of  victory,  and 


150  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

ended  in  ignominious  defeat.  Macchiavelli  says  of 
the  French  of  his  time,  what  Caesar  had  before  ex- 
pressed respecting  the  old  Gauls :  at  the  first  attack 
they  were  more  than  men,  at  the  final  retreat  less 
than  women. 

In  Rome  the  king  concluded  a  tender  friendshij 
with  the  pope.  From  thence  he  went  on  to  Naples. 
At  the  end  of  February,  he  made  his  entrance ; 
the  people  had  rebelled  in  his  favor,  and  expelled  the 
Aragonese.  "  The  Neapolitans  have  a  necessity  for 
new  kings,"  remarks  Guicciardino.  Charles  was  re- 
ceived with  great  attestations  of  joy. 

Until  now  he  had  fought  no  battle.  The  gates 
had  opened  wherever  he  appeared.  But  now  came 
the  re-action.  All  had  made  way  before  him  ;  be- 
hind him  that  way  was  closed.  Ludovico  Sforza 
was  the  first  who  revolted.  Instead  of  giving  him 
Livorno  and  Pisa,  the  French  had  retained  the 
towns  themselves.  Venice,  the  Roman  king,  Spain, 
and  the  pope,  made  common  cause  with  Milan.  A 
moment  before,  the  whole  of  Italy  had  lain  smoothly 
and  placidly  at  the  feet  of  the  King  of  France,  and 
now  it  was  necessary  to  make  his  way  back  by  force 
through  a  hostile  land.  Charles  engaged  in  the 
contest.  He  left  a  part  of  his  army  behind  in  Naples, 
where  communication  with  France  was  kept  up  by 
the  fleet ;  with  the  other  half  he  turned  back,  and 
advanced  again  upon  Rome.  Just  now  he  had  been 
exchanging  kisses  and  embraces  with  the  pope  ;  this 
time  there  was  no  talk  of  it.  In  the  whole  of  Italy, 
the  king  had  but  one  ally ;  and  this  was  the  Floren- 
tine citizens,  led  by  Savonarola,  who  had  resisted 


CHARLES    VIII.    IN    SIENA.  151 

every  effort  of  the  other  powers  to  draw  them  to 
join  the  great  league. 

Charles's  courage,  however,  and  his  pride  suffered 
not  under  this  change  of  circumstances.  In  Siena 
an  embassy  of  the  Florentines  awaited  him.  They 
offered  him  money  and  troops.  He  replied,  that  his 
own  people  were  sufficient  for  him  to  master  his  foes. 
Once  more  Savonarola  met  him.  Holding  the  Gos 
pel  in  his  hand,  he  conjured  him  to  fear  the  punish- 
ment of  Heaven,  and  to  deliver  up  Pisa.  He  gave 
an  evasive  reply.  He  could  not  keep  his  word  with 
both  parties  at  once.  Even  with  the  Medici  he  stood 
anew  in  communication.  Piero  was  at  that  time  in 
his  train,  and  hoped  through  him  to  reach  the  city, 
in  which  his  friends,  as  an  organized  party,  opposed 
Savonarola's,  and  prepared  for  the  return  of  their 
former  master. 

Without  coming  in  contact  with  Florence,  the 
king  advanced  further  north.  At  last  the  first  con- 
test in  this  war  took  place.  The  army  of  the  allies 
opposed  him  at  Fornuovo  on  the  Taro,  and  endeav- 
ored to  detain  him.  Both  sides  ascribed  the  victory 
to  themselves,  —  the  French  with  the  greater  right ; 
for  they  thrust  the  enemy  aside,  and  made  them- 
selves a  free  passage  to  Piedmont.  This  was  tak- 
ing place  in  the  north  of  Italy,  on  the  6th  July ; 
in  the  south,  on  the  7th  July,  Naples  fell  again 
under  the  power  of  the  Aragonese.  The  cause  of 
the  French  was  in  a  critical  position.  The  Floren 
tines  had  just  obtained  their  desire,  that  orders 
should  be  given  to  the  garrisons  of  "lie  Tuscan  cities 
to  withdraw 


152  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

The  commandant  of  Pisa,  however,  refused  to 
obey.  The  entreaties  of  the  Pisans ;  their  money ; 
the  tears  of  a  beautiful  girl  who  made  the  preserva- 
tion of  liberty  the  price  of  her  love ;  lastly,  opposing 
orders  from  the  king  himself,  —  succeeded  so  far, 
that  the  gates  remained  closed  to  the  Florentines. 
Livorno  alone  was  conceded  to  them ;  the  other  for- 
tresses were  sold  by  the  French  to  Lucca  or  Genoa. 
Florence  was  compelled  to  obtain  her  right  by  force. 
They  adhered  to  the  alliance  with  France,  but  Pisa 
must  be  conquered.  Savonarola  encouraged  this ; 
he  promised  the  recapture  of  the  city  in  the  name 
of  God,  who  stood  on  the  side  of  the  people. 

The  Pisans,  prepared  for  the  withdrawal  of  the 
French,  —  which,  notwithstanding,  must  follow  soon- 
er or  later,  —  turned  to  Venice,  and  Ludovico  Sforza. 
Both  supported  the  supplicating  city,  because  both 
hoped  to  win  her  for  themselves.  This  struggle  of 
the  Pisans  for  their  liberty,  their  desperate  effort  to 
rise  above  the  weakness  in  which  they  had  been 
plunged  deeper  and  deeper  by  the  Florentines,  must 
touch  the  hearts  of  all  who  closely  consider  the 
events.  Few  cities  have  thus  defended  their  walls 
to  the  uttermost.  But  it  moved  not  Savonarola. 
Pisa  was  his  Carthage,  and  it  must  be  destroyed. 
There  is  no  trace  of  sympathy  in  his  words  when  ho 
speaks  of  the  subjugation  of  the  city  as  the  reward 
of  Heaven,  and  incites  the  citizens  to  hold  out,  and 
to  remain  true -to  the  French  policy.  He  held  the 
State  like  soft  dough  in  his  hands ;  whatever  he 
wished  was  approved  of.  He  possessed  a  wonderful 
power  of  linking  together  the  most  natural  and 


MICHAEL   ANGELO   IN   FLORENCE.  153 

coldest  language  with  irresistible  fluency.  Prov- 
erbs ;  questions  with  replies,  interrupted  by  pathetic 
enthusiasm;  scriptural  passages;  practical  applica- 
tions of  a  surprising  kind,  but  ever  open  to  the 
plainest  understanding,  —  these  stood  in  plentiful 
abundance  at  his  disposal.  He  was  the  soul  of  the 
city.  As  a  well-written  journal  at  the  present  day 
gives  vent  to  the  thoughts  of  its  party,  so  Savonarola 
took  upon  himself  to  satisfy  the  daily  demand  for 
thought  among  the  Florentines ;  and  his  stores 
seemed  inexhaustible.  He  spoke  in  short  sentences ; 
without  ornamental  epithets,  quick  and  practical  as 
we  speak  in  the  streets,  but  uniting  his  ideas  to- 
gether in  a  current  that  carried  away  his  hearers. 
And,  as  there  were  only  a  few  points  to  which  he 
continually  reverted,  and  which  he  had  preached 
from  the  beginning,  so  he  told  the  people  nothing 
which  they  had  to  apprehend  and  consider  afresh ; 
but  he  only  repeated  with  ever-new  power  their  own 
old  convictions.  In  the  midst  of  his  prophecies,  and 
explanations  of  the  highest  things,  he  issued  com- 
mands about  apparel,  habits,  and  behavior,  and  gave 
political  instructions  for  the  days  following,  just  as 
the  position  of  things  required.  Savonarola  pos- 
sessed the  old  tact  of  popular  men,  who  know  how 
to  deal  with  the  multitude,  and  in  the  midst  of  their 
enthusiasm  never  lose  their  common  plainness. 
Only  that,  in  his  case,  enthusiasm  became  fanati- 
cism. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  Michael  Angelo  found 
on  his  return  from  Bologna.  It  was  gloomy  and 
depressing;  but  artists  still  executed,  and  the  rich 

7* 


154  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

purchased.  He  at  once  prepared  an  atelier.  He 
found,  too,  a  patron 'for  his  genius;  and  it  was 
again  a  Medici  who  interested  himself  in  him. 

The  old  Cosmo  had  had  a  brother  who  died  early, 
and  who  had  been  a  great  friend  of  learning.  His 
descendants  lived  in  Florence,  and  had  always  been 
regarded  with  mistrust  by  the  ruling  branch.  Piero 
went  so  far  as  to  have  his  two  cousins,  Lorenzo  and 
Giovanni,  imprisoned,  —  for  they  certainly  intrigued 
against  him  at  Florence,  as  well  as  at  foreign 
courts,  —  and  had  only  with  difficulty  been  brought 
to  change  the  prison  into  banishment  to  a  villa,  the 
limits  of  which  were  not  to  be  transgressed.  Having 
escaped  to  France,  they  returned  in  Charles's  train. 
After  the  overthrow  of  Pisa,  they  again  entered  the 
city,  laid  aside  the  name  of  Medici  for  the  sake 
of  nattering  the  people,  and  called  themselves  Popo- 
lani ;  just  as  Orleans  under  similar  circumstances 
called  himself  Egalite".  Rich,  and  related  through 
their  wives  to  the  highest  nobles  of  Italy,  they  had 
lived  since  that  time  in  Florence,  and  endeavored 
to  distinguish  themselves  by  their  zeal  for  her  lib- 
erty. 

Lorenzo  took  an  interest  in  Michael  Angelo,  and 
gave  him  work.  He  had  him  execute,  so  Condivi 
says,  an  infant  St.  John,  and  a  St.  Giovannino. 
Filippino  Lippi  also  worked  for  him.  Michael 
Angelo,  besides  this  commission,  began  to  cut  on 
his  own  account  a  Cupid  in  marble,  which  he 
represented  as  a  child  from  six  to  seven  years  old 
lying  asleep.  During  the  winter  of  1495  and  1496, 
however,  in  which  he  was  engaged  on  these  works, 


THE   CARNIVAL   OP   1496   IN    FLORENCE.  155 

events  occurred  in  the  city,  to  which  the  former 
ones  had  been  but  a  gentle  prelude.  On  all  sides, 
matters  had  remained  in  an  undecided  state.  The 
conduct  of  the  allies  to  obtain  Florence  was  ever 
biassed  by  the  certain  prospect,  that  the  efforts  to 
bring  the  city  to  revolt  from  France  would  be 
successful.  The  parties  became  in  some  degree 
confused  together.  Savonarola,  violently  as  he 
spoke,  still  retained  a  certain  moderation ;  and,  if 
Rome  had  changed  her  conduct,  this  would  have 
been  possible. 

In  the  end  of  the  year  1495,  however,  occurred 
the  first  armed  expedition  of  the  Medici  to  take 
possession  of  the  city  by  force.  Piero,  who  had 
nothing  to  obtain  from  the  French,  had  applied  to 
the  League,  and  found  a  hearing.  The  Florentines 
were  to  be  compelled  to  follow  them,  and  to  dis- 
continue the  attacks  on  Pisa.  In  league  with  Sforza, 
the  Bentivogli,  the  Orsini,  and  Siena,  the  brothers 
hoped  to  seize  Florence  as  in  a  snare,  and  to  bring 
her  to  obedience.  But  the  disunion  of  the  allies 
frustrated  the  undertaking;  its  sole  result  lay  in 
strengthening  Savonarola's  party  in  the  city,  and 
his  own  authority. 

Now  occurred  the  carnival  at  the  beginning  of  the 
year  1496.*  It  was  wont  to  be  celebrated  with 
extravagant  noise.  Day  and  night,  wild  tricks  took 
place  in  the  streets,  from  the  graceful  jest  to  the 
misdemeanor  which  ended  in  bloodshed.  Every 
one  must  come  forward.  The  crowning  feature  of 
the  festival  was  always  magnificent  processions  with 

*  The  Florentine  chronology  is  throughout  disregarded. 


156  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

singing,  and  on  the  last  day  the  burning  oi  the  trees, 
which,  hung  with  tinsel  extorted  or  given,  were 
placed  on  the  open  squares,  and  set  on  flame,  while 
the  people  danced  round  them. 

As  Christianity  had  once  usurped  the  old  heathen 
festivals,  and,  instead  of  exterminating  them,  had 
monopolized  them  for  herself,  Savonarola  now  did 
so  likewise.  Processions  were  to  be  made,  songs  to 
be  sung,  gifts  to  be  solicited,  and  trees  burned  down  ; 
the  people  were  to  dance  round  them,  but  all  with  a 
higher  meaning,  as  he  should  devise  and  appoint. 
Children  went  through  the  streets,  knocked  at  doors, 
and  begged  with  gentle  words  for  "  objects  of  con- 
demnation," which  should  be  burned  to  the  honor 
of  God.  Instead  of  the  merry  pageants,  there  were 
processions  with  pious  songs.  On  the  last  day  a 
pyramid  was  erected,  made  of  the  products  of  the 
collection.  Musical  instruments,  books  with  love- 
poems  (Tuscan  as  well  as  heathenish),  pictures, 
dress,  perfume,  —  in  short  whatever  could  be  thought 
of  among  the  unhallowed  superfluities  of  daily  life,  — 
were  gathered  together  into  a  structure  of  the  most 
valuable  specimens,  which  was  set  on  fire,  and,  amid 
the  singing  of  strange  songs  in  the  praise  of  Christ, 
"  the  King  of  Florence,"  was  danced  round  by  the 
excited  people.  Old  and  young  took  part  in  it.  It 
was  here  that  Fra  Bartolomeo  and  Lorenzo  da  Credi 
delivered  their  own  works  to  the  flames,  in  which 
valuable  editions  of  Petrarca  and  Virgil  were  de- 
stroyed. 

Lent  followed,  —  this  time  a  true  period  of  re- 
pentance and  contrition.  Day  after  day,  Savonarola's 


SAVONAROLA.  157 

sermons  were  preached  among  the  people,  kindling 
the  glowing  fanaticism  into  fresh  flame.  Twice 
already  had  the  pope  prohibited  his  preaching  ;  but 
the  Government  of  the  city,  and  the  Romish  friends 
of  Savonarola,  had  demanded  a  repeal  of  the  inter- 
diction. They  had  hoped  he  would  become  more 
moderate ;  but  what  he  had  hitherto  said  had  been 
little :  he  now  unreservedly  gave  himself  up  to  the 
impulse  to  be  plain-spoken,  and  showed  more  dis- 
tinctly the  ultimate  consequences  of  his  doctrine. 
"  I  ask  thee,  Rome,"  he  exclaimed,  "  how  can  it  be 
possible,  that  thou  shouldst  still  exist  upon  earth  ? 
Eleven  thousand  courtesans  in  Rome  is  too  deep  an 
evil.  By  night  the  priests  are  with  these  women ; 
the  morning  after,  they  read  mass  and  administer  the 
sacraments.  All  is  venal  in  Rome :  every  position, 
and  even  Christ's  blood,  is  to  be  had  for  money." 
He  stood  there,  and  feared  not.  His  friends  and 
denouncers  might  report  what  he  had  said  ;  he  was 
a  fire  that  was  aot  to  be  extinguished. 

Much  had  happened  of  that  which  he  had  pre- 
dicted ;  but  that  was  the  least.  Rome  and  Italy  were 
to  be  annihilated  to  the  root;  fearful  bands  of 
avengers  were  to  overflow  the  land,  and  punish  the 
arrogance  of  the  princes ;  the  churches,  which  had 
been  degraded  by  their  priests  into  public  houses  of 
infamy,  would  be  stables  for  horses  and  impure 
cattle ;  plague  and  famine  would  appear,  —  thus 
he  thundered  forth  on  the  fourth  Monday  of  Lent, 
in  a  sermon  which  even  at  the  present  day  makes 
an  exciting  impression. 

We   know  not  to  what  extent   Michael  Angelo 


158  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGF.LO. 

abandoned  himself  to  these  feelings ;  but  ho  cer- 
tainly belonged  to  Savonarola's  adherents.  In  his 
declining  age,  he  still  studied  his  writings,  and  re- 
membered the  strong  voice  in  which  he  had  preached. 
When,  in  July,  1595,  the  hall  for  the  consiglio 
grande  in  the  palace  of  the  Government  was  begun 
to  be  built  at  Savonarola's  urgent  request,  Michael 
Angelo  was  among  those  who  were  consulted  about 
it.  The  Sangalli,  Baccio  d'Agnolo,  Simone  del  Pol- 
lajuolo,  and  others,  formed  this  committee.  Simone 
del  Pollajuolo,  known  under  the  name  Cronaca,  ob- 
tained the  direction  of  the  building.  Fra  Bartolomeo 
undertook  the  painting  for  the  altar  erected  in  the 
hall,  —  they  were  all  adherents  of  Savonarola,  and 
Michael  Angelo  among  them.  On  the  15th  July, 
Cronaca  was  chosen.  This  date  affords  at  the  same 
time  a  point  for  Michael  Angelo's  return  from 
Bologna.  He  must  just  have  arrived  at  Florence, 
as  he  took  part  in  the  affair.* 

In  spite  of  this,  he  still  remained  worldly  enough 
to  execute  a  Cupid.  In  April  or  May,  1496,  he  had 
finished  it.  Medici  was  delighted  with  the  work, 
and  informed  him  in  what  way  the  best  price  could 
be  obtained  for  it.  He  told  him  to  give  the  stone 
the  appearance  of  having  long  lain  underground. 
He  would  himself  send  it  to  Rome,  where  it  would 
be  paid  for  highly  as  an  antique.  We  see  that  the 
Medici,  in  spite  of  their  rank,  had  not  lost  their 
mercantile  spirit.  Lorenzo  proved  this  on  other 
occasions.  He  understood  well  how  to  make  use  of 
the  scarcity  which  soon  occurred  in  Florence,  by 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  VII. 


JOUENEY   TO   ROME.  159 

having  corn  from  the  Romagna,  upon  which  ho 
gained  considerably. 

Michael  Angelo  agreed  to  the  proposal,  gave  the 
marble  a  weather-worn  and  ancient  appearance,  and 
soon  received  information,  through  Lorenzo,  that 
the  Cardinal  San  Giorgio  —  that  same  Rafael  Riario 
who  had  read  mass  in  Florence,  when  Giuliano  had 
been  murdered  by  the  Pazzi  —  had  purchased  it  for 
thirty  ducats.  H.  Baldassare  del  Milanese,  by  means 
of  whom  the  matter  had  been  concluded  in  Rome, 
paid  Michael  Angelo  the  sum  in  Florence,  which 
must  have  appeared  to  him  a  reasonable  price. 

The  secret,  however,  of  the  real  origin  of  the 
antique  was  not  kept.  Various  rumors  of  it  reached 
the  cardinal ;  he  was  offended  at  having  been  de- 
ceived, and  sent  a  nobleman  of  his  household  to 
Florence  to  investigate  the  matter.  This  man  ap- 
peared as  if  he  were  in  search  of  a  sculptor,  who 
could  be  employed  in  Rome,  and  invited  Michael 
Angelo  to  visit  him  among  others.  He  came  ;  but, 
instead  of  showing  works  which  he  brought  with 
him,  he  took  a  pen,  and  drew  a  human  hand  boldly 
on  the  paper,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  Roman. 
He  then  enumerated  the  sculptures  he  had  already 
completed  ;  and  among  them,  without  further  cere- 
mony, he  named  the  sleeping  Cupid. 

Tiic  man  now  explained  why  he  had  really  sent 
for  him  :  instead  of  the  thirty  ducats  which  M.  Bal- 
dassare had  sent,  he  told  him  of  two  hundred  which 
the  cardinal  had  paid  for  the  work,  so  that  Michael 
Angelo  saw  himself  just  as  much  deceived  as  the 
cardinal  himself.  Invited  by  the  Roman  nobleman, 


160  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELG 

who  promised  to  receive  him  into  his  own  house ; 
impressed  with  his  assurances  that  Rome  presented 
a  vast  field  for  the  exhibition  of  his  art,  and  for 
obtaining  money ;  principally,  however,  with  the 
intention  of  making  M.  Baldassare  pay  the  remain- 
ing hundred  and  seventy  ducats,  —  he  set  out  for 
Rome,  where  he  arrived  on  the  25th  June,  1496. 


ABRIVAT.  IN   SOME.  Til 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

1496  —  1500. 

Arrival  in  Rome  —  The  City  —  Alexander  Borgia  and  his  Chil- 
dren —  Pollajuolo  —  Melozzo  da  Forli  —  Mantegna  —  Cardinal 
Riario  —  The  Madonna  of  Mr<  Labouchere  —  The  Bacchus  — 
The  Pieta  —  State  of  Things  in  Florence  —  Savonarola's  Power 
and  Ruin  —  Return  to  Florence. 

HHHE  oldest  piece  of  writing  in  Michael  Angelo's 
hand  which  we  possess,  is  the  letter  in  which 
he  informs   Lorenzo   dei   Medici  of  his  arrival  in 
Rome: — 

"I  beg  to  inform  your  Magnificence,  that  we  arrived 
here  safely  last  Saturday,  and  went  at  once  to  the  Cardinal 
di  San  Giorgio,  to  whom  I  delivered  your  letter.  He 
seemed  well  inclined  to  me,  and  desired  at  once  that  I 
should  look  at  different  figures,  which  I  spent  the  whole 
day  in  doing,  and  have  therefore  not  yet  delivered  your 
other  letters.  On  Sunday  the  cardinal  came  to  the  new 
building,  and  sent  for  me.  When  I  came,  he  asked  me 
what  I  thought  of  all  I  had  seen.  I  gave  him  my  opinion 
respecting  them.  There  are  indeed,  it  seems  to  me,  ver) 
beautiful  things  here.  The  cardinal  now  wished  to  know 
whether  I  would  venture  to  undertake  any  beautiful  thing. 
I  answered  that  I  would  make  no  great  promises,  but  he 
would  see  himself  what  I  was  able  to  do.  "We  have 


lVJ2  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

purchased  a  fine  piece  of  marble  for  a  figure  as  large  as 
life,  and  next  Monday  I  begin  to  work  at  it.  Last  Mon- 
day I  gave  the  rest  of  your  letters  to  Paolo  Rucellai,  who 
paid  me  the  money  I  required,  and  that  for  Cavalcanti.  I 
then  took  Baldassare  the  letter,  and  demanded  the  Cupid 
back,  promising  to  give  him  his  money  in  return.  He 
answered  very  impetuously  that  he  would  rather  break 
the  Cupid  into  a  thousand  piece?! ;  he  had  purchased  it,  it 
was  his  property,  and  he  could  prove  in  writing  that  he 
satisfied  him  from  whom  he  had  received  it.  No  man 
should  compel  him  to  deliver  it  up.  He  complained  of 
you,  that  you  had  calumniated  him.  One  of  our  Floren- 
tines here  interposed  to  unite  us,  but  proved  ineffectual. 
1  think  now  I  may  carry  the  point  by  means  of  the 
cardinal ;  Baldassare  Balducci  has  given  me  this  counsel. 
I  will  write  you  whatever  takes  place  further.  So  much 
for  this  time.  Farewell.  God  keep  you.* 

"  MICHELAGNOLO  in  Rome." 

How  vividly  do  these  few  words  introduce  us  to 
the  intercourse  of  the  men  who  disputed  with  each 
other  in  the  affair  of  the  statue  I  An  irritated 
noble  ;  a  furious,  cheating  merchant ;  interposing 
friends,  —  and  yet  all  this  was  secondary  to  Rome 
itself.  Michael  Angelo  rambles  through  the  city ; 
and,  at  the  sight  of  the  works  of  art,  he  neglects  to 
deliver  his  letters  of  introduction. 

He  was  twenty-one  years  old  when  he  went  to 
Rome. 

As  the  Romans  once  said  "  The  city,"  in  desig- 
nating Rome,  so  in  the  present  day  we  say  "  Rome," 
in  naming  that  which,  to  any  one  who  has  seen  it, 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  VIII. 


ROME.  163 

must  appear  as  the  ideal  of  a  city.  One  could  fancy, 
when  the  world  was  created,  with  its  trees,  rivers, 
seas,  mountains,  animals,  and  lastly  with  men, — 
that,  on  that  spot  of  earth  where  Rome  stands,  a 
city  must  have  grown  up  from  the  soil,  springing 
up  without  human  interference.  We  could  imagine 
of  other  cities,  that  there  was  once  a  waste  desolate 
plain,  a  wood,  a  swamp,  a  quiet  far-stretching 
meadow ;  that  then  men  came,  and  built  huts  out 
of  which  houses  grew ;  that  one  followed  another, 
until  at  length  there  became  an  immense  number, 
interspersed  with  churches  and  palaces,  but  all 
destructible ;  and  that,  centuries  after,  fresh  trees 
might  have  stood  there,  among  which  only  shy  wild 
animals  crept.  But  of  Rome  such  thoughts  are 
almost  an  impossibility.  "We  cannot  believe,  that 
here,  at  any  time,  there  was  marshy  ground  in  whose 
humid  waters  Romulus  and  Remus  could  have 
been  exposed  as  children,  or  that  the  rudest  force 
could  ever  have  succeeded  in  clearing  the  seven 
hills  of  buildings.  At  Berlin,  Vienna,  Paris,  I  could 
imagine  a  storm  cutting  down  every  thing  to  the 
ground  as  with  a  scythe,  and  casting  it  aside  as 
dead ;  but,  in  Rome,  it  seems  as  if  the  stones  them- 
selves must  again  unite  into  palaces,  if  any  violent 
shock  tore  them  asunder ;  as  if  it  were  against  the 
laws  of  being,  that  the  height  of  the  Capitol  should 
be  without  palaces,  temples,  and  towers. 

It  is  a  drawback,  that,  to  express  thoughts  of  this 
kind,  we  are  obliged  to  make  use  of  fixed  images 
with  a  limited  meaning.  Taken  practically,  the 
thoughts  which  we  have  just  brought  forward  are 


164  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

valueless ;  for  Rome  may  one  day  be  destroyed  root 
and  branch,  just  as  well  as  Babylon  and  Persepolis. 
And  yet  in  these  fancies  there  lies  a  meaning  of 
a  higher  kind,  and  there  is  a  necessity  for  giving 
expression  to  them.  The  feeling  of  eternity,  of  im- 
perishableness,  which  steals  over  us  in  Rome,  must 
be  'expressed  ;  the  feeling,  as  if  the  earth  was  a  vast 
empire,  and  here  its  central  point ;  love  for  this  city 
of  all  cities.  I  am  no  Roman  Catholic,  and  I  per- 
ceive nothing  in  myself  of  romantic  veneration  for 
pope  and  church ;  but  I  cannot  deny  the  powerful 
feeling  of  home  which  seizes  me  in  Rome,  and  the 
longing  to  return  there  which  I  never  lose.  The 
idea  that  the  young  .Michael  Angelo,  full  of  the 
bustle  of  the  fanatically  excited  Florence,  was  led  by 
fate  to  this  Rome,  and  trod  for  the  first  time  that 
soil  where  the  most  corrupt  doings  were  nevertheless 
lost  sight  of  in  the  calm  grandeur  of  the  past,  has 
something  in  it  that  awakens  thought.  It  was  the 
first  step  in  his  actual  life.  He  had  before  been  led 
hither  and  thither  by  men  and  by  his  own  indistinct 
views  ;  now,  thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  he 
takes  a  new  start  for  his  future,  and  what  he  now 
produces  begins  the  series  of  his  masterly  works. 

• 

2. 

What  was  the  nature  of  the  beautiful  things 
which  he  mentioned  to  the  cardinal  as  existing  in 
Rome,  can  hardly,  at  the  present  day,  be  decided. . 
The  ransacking  of  the  rich  soil  had  begun,  and 
much  had  been  found ;  but  the  discovery  of  most  of 
the  antiques,  which  are  known  at  the  present  day  as 


.  ROME.  165 

the  gems  of  the  collections,  occurred  in  later  times : 
on  the  other  hand,  much  of  that  which  had  been 
accumulated  in  Rome  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries,  was  subsequently  carried  away  in  every  di- 
rection. The  present  condition  of  things  affords  no 
guide  in  considering  the  past ;  it  was  another  Rome 
into  which  Michael  Angelo  entered.  The  existing 
works  of  art  were  not  as  now  coldly  arranged  to- 
gether in  museums,  but  were  distributed  throughout 
the  city,  placed  in  open  and  favorable  places,  for  the 
adornment  of  buildings,  and  the  delight  of  men. 
These  buildings  were  constructed  in  a  style,  only 
small  remains  of  which  are  still  existing.  When 
Michael  Angelo  ascended  the  rock  of  the  Capitol, 
he  little  anticipated  that  it  would  be  one  day  studded 
with  palaces,  which  would  change  its  entire  form. 
When,  sitting  down  on  the  bare  ruins  of  the  old 
temple  of  Jupiter,  he  gazed  around  him,  he  never 
anticipated  that  one  day  the  eye  would  look  from 
thence  over  St.  Peter's  dome,  which  he  devised,  and 
the  countless  smaller  domes,  all  built  after  the  same 
pattern.  We  could  not,  at  the  present  day,  imagine 
Rome  without  this  prospect.  Nothing  of  it  then 
existed.  The  old  Basilica  of  Saint  Peter  was  at  that 
time  still  standing ;  the  magnificent  spacious  square 
of  Bernini,  witli  its  rushing  springs,  and  the  vast 
colonnades  which  surround  it,  was  covered  with  an 
irregular  cluster  of  small  houses.  A  square  lay 
in  their  centre,  on  which  tournaments  and  running 
at  the  ring  were  held.  The  wide-stretching  palace 
of  the  Vatican  was  scarcely  a  quarter  so  great  as  at 
the  present  day,  and  was  shut  in  like  a  fortress. 


166  LIFE  OP  MICHAEL   ANGELQ. 

From  hence  the  pope  had  a  covered  walled  way  to 
the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  which,  closely  connected 
by  fortifications  with  the  bridge  that  leads  under  it 
across  the  Tiber,  presented  more  evidently  than  at 
the  present  day  the  form  of  a  castle,  the  possessor 
of  which  was  lord  of  the  city,  in  that  he  could 
completely  separate  at  his  will  the  two  halves  of 
Rome,: — the  new  papal  city  to  the  north  of  the 
river,  and  the  grand  old  Rome  to  the  south  of 
the  Tiber.* 

The  castle  of  St.  Angelo  formed  the  citadel  of 
Rome,  though  only  one  of  the  less  distinguished 
fortresses,  with  which,  like  Florence  in  old  times, 
she  was  filled.  In  Florence,  a  freer,  lighter  style 
had  long  before  produced  free,  beautiful  palaces; 
in  Rome,  where  the  public  condition  of  things 
gave  precedence  to  strength  before  beauty,  few  of 
the  long  and  splendid  faQades,  filled  with  rows 
of  windows,  were  to  be  seen.  The. palaces  of  the 
cardinals  and  of  the  higher  nobility,  the  Orsini,  the 
Colonna,  and  others,  appeared  like  dark,  shut-in 
buildings,  well  fitted  for  defence,  and  provided  with 
every  means  for  warding  off  sudden  attacks.  The 
Roman  and  Florentine  palace  architecture  belongs 
to  the  age  and  its  history.  The  facade  lay  within ; 
the  court-yard  was  the  real  centre  of  the  building, — 
a  space  surrounded  on  every  side,  where  shady  cool- 
ness prevailed  at  all  hours,  where  fountains  played, 
and  where  statues  stood  in  the  most  favorable  light. 
The  rude  and  gloomy  mass  of  palaces  opened  round 
the  court-yard  in  light  open  colonnades.  It  was  safe 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  IX.    •. 


BOMB.  167 

here,  and  yet  the  open  sky  was  overhead.  The 
Loggie  of  the  Vatican,  which  Raphael  painted,  are 
the  open  arcades  which  surrounded  the  court  of  the 
papal  palace. 

Around  these  castles  of  the  temporal  and  spiritual 
princes  lay  the  dwellings  of  their  servants,  and  of 
those  generally  who  adhered  to  the  lord  thus  en- 
throned in  their  midst.  The  narrow  streets  between 
these  houses  were  closed  by  night  with  chains. 
Thus  every  powerful  noble  had  his  city  to  himself 
within  the  city,  —  his  court,  his  church,  his  subjects, 
his  nobles,  soldiers,  artists,  and  scholars ;  and  be- 
tween these  courts  and  the  pope's  there  flowed  an 
eternal  stream  of  intrigues,  with  concealed  or  openly 
exhibited  hostility.  At  that  time  more  than  the 
half  of  Europe  was  ecclesiastical  property,  paid 
tribute  to  Rome,  and  received  her  precepts.  The 
city  is  a  desert  at  the  present  day  compared  with 
those  times.  The  palaces  stand  empty ;  the  car 
dinals  —  men  possessing  power  and  importance 
only  in  exceptional  cases  —  drive  in  heavy  carriages 
through  the  streets,  old  and  often  feeble  men,  whose 
names  are  scarcely  known  in  the  city  itself.  At 
that  period  they  galloped  in  complete  armor  with 
their  attendants  to  the  Vatican,  past  their  churches, 
at  which,  at  the  time  of  the  papal  election,  they 
publicly  put  up  to  auction  the  golden  and  silver 
vessels,  because  they  needed  money  to  bribe  their 
friends  and  foes.  These  were  men  of  the  first 
princely  families,  young,  warlike,  and  with  ardent 
passions.  Cardinal  Ascanio,  Ludovico  Sforza's  bro- 
ther, had  staked  immense  sums  to  effect  his  election 


168  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

to  the  papacy  after  Innocent's  death ;  Cardinal  Vin- 
cola  also,  who,  like  Ascanio,  could  lead  his  own 
army  into  the  field,  so  powerful  were  they  both ; 
yet  this  time  they  were  conquered  by  Alexander 
Borgia,  who  had  the  greatest  influence,  and  who 
governed  Rome  at  the  period  of  Michael  Angelo's 
arrival  there.  He  was  the  first  pope  who  spoke 
openly  of  his  children  ;  before,  there  had  only  been 
mention  made  of  the  nephews  and  nieces  of  the 
popes.  Lucrezia  Borgia  was  his  daughter.  She 
was  purchased  from  her  first  husband,  separated 
from  her  socond,  her  third  was  struck  to  the  ground 
before  the  Vatican  itself,  and,  when  likely  to  recover, 
he  was  strangled  on  his  sick-bed  by  Caesar  Borgia, 
Lucrezia's  brother,  who  had  ordered  the  attack. 

This  Caesar  Borgia,  Alexander's  favorite  son,  was  at 
that  time  twenty-five  years  old,  beautiful  in  figure, 
and  strong  as  a  giant.  In  a  square  before  the  Vati- 
can, surrounded  with  barriers,  he  killed  six  wild 
bulls,  against  whom  he  fought  on  horseback.  He 
struck  the  first  a  blow  on  the  head.  The  whole  of 
Rome  was  in  amazement.  His  wildness,  however, 
was  no  less  than  his  power.  He  stabbed  Messer 
Pierotto,  the  favorite  of  his  father,  under  the  mantle 
of  his  patron,  whither  he  had  fled,  so  that  his  blood 
was  sprinkled  in  the  face  of  the  pope.  Every  morn- 
ing from  four  to  five  corpses  were  to  be  found  iu 
the  streets,  among  them  bishops  and  eminent  prel- 
ates. Rome  was  in  terror  of  Cassar. 

At  that  time  he  must  have  murdered  his  brother, 
the  Duke  of  Gandia.  He  had  him  stabbed,  and 
thrown  into  the  Tiber.  He  then  communicated  to 


BORGIA.  169 

the  pope  himself,  that  the  deed  had  originated  with 
him.  The  head  of  Christendom,  beside  himself 
with  rage  and  grief,  appeared  in  the  college  of  the 
cardinals,  cried  aloud  over  his  son,  reproached  him- 
self with  all  the  crimes  he  had  committed,  and 
promised  improvement.  This  continued  for  some 
days ;  then  it  passed  away,  and  the  reconciliation 
with  Caesar  was  not  long  delayed.  This  fearful 
family  was  too  much  thrown  upon  each  other,  to  be 
able  to  remain  long  at  variance  with  themselves. 
False,  shameless,  deceitful,  without  faith,  insatiable 
in  his  avarice,  criminal  in  his  ambition,  and  cruel 
even  to  barbarity,  —  thus  Guicciardini  sums  up  the 
crimes  of  the  pope.  Such  a  character  seems  impos- 
sible in  our  own  day ;  it  would  find  no  scope  for 
extending  its  vulture  wings,  nor  prey  upon  which  it 
could  light.  So  completely,  however,  do  the  Borgias 
suit  their  age,  that  they  only  stand  out  conspicu- 
ously, when  we  consider  their  qualities  by  them- 
selves, taken  out  of  the  frame  of  that  which 
surrounded  them.  If  we  study  the  deeds  which 
emanated  from  others  around  them,  their  crimes 
appear  almost  reconcilable ;  and  we  feel  ourselves 
at  liberty  even  to  estimate  their  good  side,  —  that 
is,  the  power,  by  means  of  which  they  surpassed 
others  who  stand  less  stigmatized,  perhaps  from 
their  weakness  alone. 

"  The  pope  is  seventy  years  old,"  says  the  Vene- 
tian ambassador  of  that  period ;  "  every  day  he 
seems  to  grow  younger ;  he  discards  every  care  from 
his  heart  at  night ;  he  is  cheerful  by  nature ;  and 
whatever  he  does,  turns  out  to  his  advantage.'' 


170  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

Alexander  possessed  a  gigantic  frame  ;  his  penetrat- 
ing glance  saw  the  bearings  of  things,  and  the  right 
means  towards  an  end :  he  knew  how  to  convince 
people  in  a  wonderful  way  that  he  meant  honestly 
towards  them.  Equally  clever  was  Caesar ;  bul 
Lucrezia  possessed  so  much  beauty  and  such  gifts 
of  inind,  that  some  of  her  admirers,  even  at  the 
present  day,  will  not  believe  in  her  crimes.  They 
appeal  to  her  letters,  to  her  intercourse  with  the 
first  men  of  Italy,  to  her  subsequent  career,  when, 
as  Duchess  of  Ferrara,  she  was  for  years  the  best  of 
wives  and  mothers.*  Thus  do  mental  gifts  give  a 
lustre  to  the  darkest  actions  of  which  we  are  guilty. 
Yet  I  cannot  believe  that  the  crimes  of  this  family 
can  be  ever  glossed  over. 

3. 

Such  were  the  men  who  dwelt  in  the  Vatican, 
when  Michael  Angelo  arrived  in  Rome.  Among 
the  artists  whom  he  met  there,  were  the  two  great 
Florentines,  —  Antonio  Pollajuolo,  who  had  worked 
at  the  golden  gates  under  Ghiberti,  and  his  younger 
brother  Piero,  —  both  completely  naturalized  there, 
wealthy  in  their  circumstances,  and  intending  to 
end  their  days  in  Rome.  Piero  must  have  died 
about  the  time  of  Michael  Angelo's  arrival ;  Antonio, 
however,  the  greater  of  the  t\vo,  lived  till  1498.  He 
began  life  as  a  goldsmith ;  grew  famous  for  his  de- 
signs, which  many  artists  copied  ;  became  desirous  to 
paint  himself;  modelled,  sculptured,  and  moulded 
in  bronze.  After  the  death  of  Pope  Sixtus,  he  was 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  X. 


ANTONIO   POLLAJUOLO.  171 

called  to  Rome  by  Cardinal  Vincula,  to  execute  a 
monument  for  him.  This  occurred  in  1484.  After 
the  completion  of  the  work,  —  a  highly  tasteful  thing 
in  bronze,  representing  the  pope  lying  stretched  on 
a  basement,  decorated  in  a  masterly  manner  with 
Corinthian  ornament,  —  a  similar  work  was  assigned 
him  for  Innocent  VIII.,  who  died  in  the  same  year 
with  Lorenzo  dei  Medici,  and  whom  he  represented 
in  a  sitting  posture.  Besides  these,  many  works  of 
his  hand  are  to  be  found  in  the  smaller  churches  in 
Rome ;  those  two  monuments  were  placed  in  the 
Basilica  of  St.  Peter,  where  they  are  still  to  be  seen. 

Pollajuolo's  strength  lay  in  strictness  of  design ; 
his  color  is  cold  and  opaque.  In  the  figures,  how- 
ever, there  is  a  touch  of  greatness  and  simplicity, 
which  had  before  belonged  less  to  the  Florentine 
masters  than  to  those  of  the  Umbrian  school.  In 
San  Miniato,  at  Florence,  there  is  a  St.  Christopher 
twenty  feet  high,  by  his  hand,  which  Michael  Angelo 
is  said  to  have  repeatedly  copied.  It  may  therefore 
be  supposed,  that  he  was  personally  attached  to 
Pollajuolo  in  Rome,  —  all  the  more  so,  perhaps,  as 
he  was  acquainted  in  Florence  with  Cronaca,  his 
pupil  and  near  relative. 

However  that  may  be,  the  brothers  Pollajuolo 
were  not  the  men  to  raise  him  a  step  higher  in  his 
art.  On  the  other  hand,  he  now  became  acquainted 
in  Rome  with  the  works  of  two  masters,  whose  style 
and  manner  lay  far  removed  from  the  conceptions 
of  Florentine  art,  and  whose  works  could  not  remain 
without  an  influence  upon  him,  —  Mantegna  and 
Melozzo  da  Forli. 


172  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Mantegna  belonged  to  the  foremost  rank.  There 
is  such  a  depth  of  sentiment  in  his  pictures,  such  a 
nobility  in  his  features,  that  we  feel  at  once  that  he 
was  not  a  man  to  be  surpassed  or  imitated,  but  a 
nature  whose  animating  influence  imist  have  been 
felt  by  all  who  were  capable  of  being  touched  by  it. 
Mantegna  lived  in  Mantua,  where  the  Gonzaga  were 
nis  patrons.  He  came  to  Rome  at  the  .close  of  the 
century.  The  chapel,  which  he  painted  for  the 
pope,  no  longer  exists ;  but  we  may  suppose  that 
this  work,  for  which  he  required  a  series  of  years, 
was  not  less  than  his  others.  While  in  Florence  the 
influence  of  antique  works  upon  art  was  not  ap- 
parently strong,  but  the  free  movements  of  life  and 
nature  were  the  sources  from  which  they  drew, 
Mantegna  permitted  the  style  of  the  old  masters  to 
exercise  a  striking  influence  upon  him ;  though  he 
met  their  power  over  him  with  such  decided  peculi- 
arities of  his  own,  that  even  in  his  case  we  cannot 
speak  of  imitation.  His  coloring  is  simple,  almost 
cold,  and  is  always  subordinate  to  the  outline  ;  this 
outline,  however,  brings  out  the  figures  so  intensely, 
that  they  almost  acquire  a  typical  force.  We  feel  it 
would  be  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  the  scene 
otherwise  than  he  has  done.  If  we  stand  before 
that  of  Christ  taken  down  from  the  cross,  which  is 
in  the  original  at  Berlin,  the  feeling  of  the  most 
cruel  death,  leaving  nevertheless  behind  it  a  smiling, 
'heavenly  repose,  seems  to  be  so  exhausted  by  the  art 
of  the  master,  that  we  forget  all  other  artists,  who 
may  have  succeeded  in  it  better,  and  who  penetrate 
still  deeper  into  our  souls.  Mantegna  is  a  victim  to 


MANTECXA  —  MELOZZO    DA   FORLT.  173 

a  certain  formality,  which  was  only  overcome  by 
Leonardo  and  Michael  Angclo,  through  whose  two- 
fold influence  Raphael  afterwards  obtained  his  happy 
freedom.  But  this  does  not  prevent  us  from  ranking 
Mantegna  with  those  three.  And  this  was  the 
opinion  in  Italy  also  from  the  first.* 

Melozzo  da  Forli  does  not  come  up  to  Montegna 
in  what,  he  produced  ;  but,  in  his  designs,  he  perhaps 
surpasses  all  artists  previous  to  Michael  Angelo. 
But  few  of  his  works  are  left,  and  only  small  frag- 
ments of  the  greatest.  His  birthplace,  Forli,  lies  in 
the  Romagna,  not  far  from  Urbino,  where  Giovanni 
Santi,  Raphael's  father,  lived.  The  latter,  an 
intimate  friend  of  Melozzo's,  exhibits  the  same 
severe  forms  in  his  pictures,  the  same  material  tone, 
which  points  rather  to  Mantegna  than  to  the  Flor- 
entine school.  The  Romagna,  separated  from  Tus- 
cany by  the  mountain  range,  received  greater 
impulse  from  the  north  than  from  the  neighboring 
lands.  Forli  belonged  to  the  Count  Girolamo  Riario, 
the  nephew  of  Pope  Sixtus.  Through  him  Melozzo 
was  brought  to  Rome.  His  appointment  to  be 
painter  to  the  pope  followed,  and  finally  his  elevation 
to  the  order  of  knighthood,  f  This  was  accompanied 
with  a  rich  allowance  and  magnificent  commissions. 
There  is  a  picture  of  his  in  the  Vatican,  representing 
the  pope  surrounded  by  his  nephews.  They  are  the 
same  as  would  have  killed  Lorenzo  dei  Medici  in 
the  Pazzi  conspiracy ;  it  was  just  at  that  time  that 
Melozzo  painted  them.  Among  them,  too,  is  the 
Cardinal  Vincula,  young  and  beardless.  The  popo 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XI.  f  HM.,  Note  XII. 


174  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

himself  is  in  profile,  a  large  severe  face,  the  man 
who  inspired  the  Italians  with  respect,  because  he 
had  so  energetically  raised  his  own  family.  Melozzo's 
principal  work,  an  Ascension  of  Christ,  which  of  old 
occupied  the  altar  wall  of  the  church  San  Apostoli, 
is  now  destroyed ;  and  only  single  pieces,  which  were 
preserved  in  the  sacristy  of  St.  Peter  and  in  the 
Lateran,  afford  an  idea  of  the  grand  combination  of 
colossal  figures  of  which  the  painting  consisted.  I 
can  place  nothing  of  the  same  date  by  the  side  of 
these  figures  as  regards  boldness  of  composition. 
For  an  imagination,  before  which  human  forms 
hovered  in  such  bold  foreshortening,  and  a  hand 
such  as  the  painter  possessed  who  could  sketch  so 
freely  and  firmly  what  his  mind  perceived,  I  find 
combined  in  no  painter  hitherto.  Yet  Melozzo 
scarcely  occupies  a  place  in  the  history  of  art, 
because  the  existing  remains  of  his  works  are  too 
insignificant.  Vasari  only  mentions  him  in  the 
second  edition  of  his  work,  and  even  there,  to  say 
little  more  than  that  he  knows  nothing  of  him.  Yet, 
from  the  remains  that  exist  of  him,  the  man  appears 
to  me  equally  great  as  a  painter  and  character,  and 
does  not  merit  the  forgetfulness  into  which  his  name 
lias  fallen.  We  can  understand,  that  this  wild  pope, 
with  his  equally  wild  nephews  (or  sons,  if  we  like), 
had  respect,  for  Melozzo's  genius,  and  acknowledged 
it  not  with  money  only,  as  in  Pollajuolo's  case,  who 
at  his  death  could  leave  each  of  his  daughters  five 
thousand  ducats.  How  small  does  Pollajuolo  appear, 
with  all  his  extensive  works,  by  the  side  of  Melozzo, 
whose  Christ  and  Apostles  soar  aloft  as  if  they  would 


MELOZZO   DA   FORLI.  175 

pierce  through  the  church  roof !  A  number  of  frag- 
ments of  angels  are  still  preserved,  which  probably, 
in  full  choir,  received  tlie  Son  of  God  in  the  clouds. 
They  are  playing  on  different  instruments,  and 
singing  to  them ;  they,  too,  bend  in  beautiful  fore- 
shortenings,  and  are  nothing  but  noble,  beautiful, 
girlish  forms.  Two  appeared  to  me  especially  charm- 
ing. One  with  both  arms  holding  up  a  tambourine, 
which  she  is  striking  ;  her  body  is  bent  backwards  ; 
a  lilac  dress  over  a  green  under-garment  floats  round 
her  in  free  large  folds  ;  nothing  is  commonly  natural, 
and  yet  there  is  no  trace  of  empty,  conventional 
grandness.  The  other  is  sitting  on  the  cloud,  looking 
down  below,  and  bending  forwards,  while  she  plays 
upon  a  lute.  She  has  brown  blunt  wings,  like  an 
owl,  just  as  if  painted  from  nature.  Melozzo  had 
been  dead  two  years  when  Michael  Angelo  came  to 
Rome.  The  nephews  of  the  former  pope  were  at 
war  with  Alexander  Borgia  and  his  sons.  Cardinal 
Vincula  was  at  his  residence  in  Ostia.  Michael 
Angelo  cannot  therefore,  at  that  time,  have  been 
acquainted  with  him  who  was  subsequently  celebra- 
ted as  his  great  friend  and  patron. 

If  we  were  to  reckon  up  the  works  of  Florentine 
artists  alone,  which  he  found  in  Rome,  besides  those 
of  Mantegna  and  Melozzo,  they  would  fill  a  long 
catalogue.  Almost  all  had  worked  here  from  Giotto 
to  Ghirlandajo,  and  the  churches  were  full  of  monu- 
ments of  their  labors  ;  none,  however,  of  these  artists 
were  then  present.  Still  we  are  not  sufficiently  in- 
formed, to  know  all  who  were  working  in  Rome  at 
that  time.  There  is  in  the  museum  at  Berlin  a  bust 


176  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

as  large  as  life  of  Alexander  VI.,  which  must  have 
originated  at  that  time.  The  work  is  in  every 
respect  worthy  of  the  greatest  master :  indeed,  its 
excellence  is  such,  that  it  seems  too  good  for  Polla- 
juolo.  For  want  of  information,  however,  he  still 
remains  the  only  artist  of  importance  who,  we  may 
venture  to  suppose,  met  with  Michael  Angelo. 

4. 

The  Cardinal  di  San  Giorgio,  by  whom  Michael 
Angelo  had  been  so  well  received,  proved  himself 
subsequently  not  a  man  from  whom  any  thing"  was  to 
have  been  expected.  At  the  time  of  Michael  Angelo's 
arrival  in  Rome,  he  had  an -immense  palace,  building 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Campo  del  Fiore,  on 
which  he  could  have  easily  employed  him.  This 
must  have  been  the  "  new  building,"  of  which  men- 
tion is  made  in  the  letter  to  Lorenzo  dei  Medici.  If 
the  cardinal  seemed  at  first  willing  to  make  use  of 
Michael  Angelo  in  this  work,  as  also  appears  from 
the  letter,  he  nevertheless  gave  him  subsequently  no 
commissions.  He  even  withdrew  himself  from  the 
affair  with  Messer  Baldassare,  and  that  in  a  manner 
not  very  princely.  He  compelled  the  merchant  to 
restore  the  money  and  to  take  back  the  statue. 
Michael  Angelo  had  expected  that  the  cardinal  would 
have  obliged  Baldassare  to  pay  him  the  intercepted 
remainder.  Now  he  was  perhaps  glad  to  be  able  to 
retain  his  thirty  ducats.*  Nothing  further,  too,  is 
said  of  the  figure  as  large  as  life,  for  which  he  had 
purchased  the  marble  on  his  first  arrival,  and  which 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XIII. 


CARTOON    OP   ST.    FRANCIS.  177 

apparently  had  been  bespoken  by  the  cardinal. 
Something  must  have  occurred  between  them  both, 
which  gave  a  blow  to  their  connection  ;  for  Condi vi, 
who  wrote  after  Michael  Angelo's  own  words,  ex- 
presses himself  severely  at  the  conduct  of  the  car- 
dinal, without,  however,  specifying  it  more  closely.* 

Michael  Angelo's  influence  in  San  Giorgio's  house 
was  of  a  very  indirect  character.  Vasari  relates, 
that  San  Giorgio  had  a  barber  who  was  devoted  to 
painting,  but  who  knew  nothing  of  drawing.  For 
this  man  Michael  Angelo  made  a  cartoon  of  St. 
Francis,  in  the  ecstasy  of  receiving  the  stigmata. 
The  picture  is  praised  by  Varchi  also  in  his  funeral 
oration  on  Michael  Angelo.  As,  however,  Condivi 
is  silent  respecting  it,  and  Varchi  does  not  say 
whether  he  saw  it  himself  in  Rome,  or  only  read  of 
it  in  Vasari' s  book  (Vasari  mentions  the  work  even 
in  his  first  edition),  the  matter  remains  uncertain. 
All  the  more  so,  since,  at  the  present  day,  nothing 
to  be  referred  to  Michael  Angelo  exists  in  San  Piero 
in  Montorio,  where  the  painting  is  said  to  have  been 
found  in  the  first  chapel  on  the  left  hand. 

I  might,  on  the  other  hand,  impute  a  work  to  this 
early  period  in  Rome,  of  which  indeed  no  one  speaks, 
but  which  undoubtedly  was  produced  by  Michael 
Angelo,  and  perhaps  is  best  inserted  here,  —  the 
Madonna  in  Mr.  Labouchere's  possession,  and  which 
was  first  generally  known  by  the  Manchester  Ex 
hibition. 

It  is  a  picture  a  tempera,  and  is  unfinished.  The 
composition  falls  into  three  parts :  in  the  centre 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XIV. 

8*  t 


178  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   AXGELO. 

the  Madonna ;  on  her  right  and  left  two  pair  of  youlli- 
ful  figures  close  together,  angels  if  we  will.  Those 
on  the  left  are  only  in  outline ;  those  on  the  other 
side,  however,  are  completed,  and  are  so  touching  in 
their  beauty  that  they  belong  to  the  best  produced 
by  Michael  Angelo.  They  stand  close  together, — 
two  boys  between  fourteen  and  fifteen  years  old,  the 
one  standing  in  front  seen  in  profile,  his  whole  figure 
bent  down  ;  the  one  behind  him  en  face.  The  latter 
has  placed  both  hands  on  his  companion's  shoulder, 
and  is  looking  with  him  on  a  sheet  of  parchment, 
which  the  other  holds  before  him  with  both  hands, 
as  though  he  were  reading  it :  he,  too,  has  his  head 
somewhat  inclined,  and  his  eyes  are  fixed  upon  it. 
It  is  a  sheet  of  music-paper,  perhaps,  from  which 
both  are  singing ;  the  half-opened  lips  might  indicate 
this.  The  bare  arms,  the  hands  holding  the  sheet, 
both  showing  the  delicacy  of  youth,  but  painted  with 
an  observance  of  nature  which  it  is  impossible  to 
praise  or  to  describe,  would  suffice  in  themselves 
to  give  this  figure  the  highest  value.  But,  besides 
this,  there  is  the  head,  the  delicately  slender  form, 
the  light  garment  falling  below  the  knee  in  close- 
lying  broken  folds,  then  the  knee  and  the  leg  and 
the  foot,  —  it  is  all  a  representation  of  nature  which 
is  almost  too  touching;  we  feel  deep  within  our 
hearts  a  love  for  this  child,  and  are  assured  of  his 
purity  and  innocence.  The  garment  of  the  other  is 
dark ;  a  shadow  lies  over  his  eyes  ;  and,  in  the  eye 
itself,  there  is  quite  a  different  character,  but  no  less 
charming.  The  hair,  too,  is  different ;  the  locks  are 
thicker,  darker,  with  the  ends  sticking  out:  while 


MR.  LABOUCHERE'S  MADONNA.  179 

those  of  the  first  are  softer  and  fuller,  passed  behind 
the  ear,  and  lying  on  the  neck. 

The  Virgin  is  entirely  in  the  front.  A  clear 
mantle  is  fastened  together  with  the  ends  into  a 
strong  knot  on  the  left  shoulder ;  it  almost  conceals 
the  right  arm,  and  is  wrapped  around  and  under  the 
knee  in  many  folds.  A  white  veil  lies  upon  her  dark 
hair,  yet  so  that  it  is  visible  all  round.  The  Holy 
Child  is  reaching  across  her  lap  for  the  book ;  while 
his  mother,  holding  it  in  her  left  hand,  withdraws  it 
from  him,  and  in  this  the  right,  appearing  under  the 
mantle,  assists  her.  It  is  as  if  she  had  also  herself 
joined  in  the  chorus,  and  had  just  wished  to  turn 
over  the  leaf,  when  the  child  seized  the  book,  which 
she  gently  holds  up  on  the  left.  John  stands  more 
in  the  background  on  the  right,  by  the  side  of  the 
Holy  Child ;  the  skin  of  an  animal  is  wrapped  round 
the  little  body,  yet  almost  without  concealing  it  any- 
where. The  light  comes  from  the  left,  so  that  the 
shadow  cast  by  the  figure  of  the  holy  Virgin  falls 
slightly  over  him. 

The  two  figures  indicated  by  a  few  lines  on  the 
other  side,  next  to  the  Madonna,  were  perhaps  girls, 
in  contrast  to  the  boys  on  this  side.  Of  the  color- 
ing I  can  say  nothing,  as  I  have  only  seen  a  photo- 
graph. 

Michael  Angelo  has  left  behind  many  unfinished 
works.  His  vehement,  often  desultory,  nature  was 
to  blame  for  this.  In  this  instance,  perhaps,  special 
circumstances  may  have  concurred  to  efface  from 
his  memory  the  picture  itself,  and  the  whole  remote 
period.  If  we  knew  where  the  picture  came  from, 


180  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

we  might  possibly  by  that  means  obtain  more  light 
upon  it.* 

Michael  Angelo's  first  notorious  work,  which  he 
executed  in  Rome,  is  his  statue  of  the  drunken 
Bacchus.  Jacopo  Galli,  styled  by  Condivi  "  un 
gentiluomo  Romano  e  di  bello  ingegno,"  —  a  noble 
and  cultivated  man  therefore, — gave  him  the  order 
for  this  work,  which  is  still  preserved  uninjured.  It 
is  a  figure  as  large  as  life,  of  which  Michael  Angelo's 
contemporaries  speak  with  admiration,  whilst  mod- 
erns do  not  accord  with  this  unqualified  appreciation. 

It  is  no  godlike  intoxication,  by  which  we  see  the 
god  overcome ;  no  sacred  fire  of  drunkenness,  by  the 
breath  of  whose  flame  the  old  poets  have  shown  us 
Dionysus  traversing  the  world ;  but  the  intoxication 
of  a  man  under  the  influence  of  wine,  striving  to 
support  himself,  with  smiling  mouth  and  exhausted 
limbs.  Still  there  is  no  corpulency,  nothing  bloated ; 
but  a  youthful,  well-formed  figure.  Compared  with 
the  antique,  it  is  an  almost  disgusting  imitation  of 
earthly  weakness ;  compared  with  nature,  it  is,  in 
spite  of  all,  an  ideal  picture  of  joviality  produced  by 
wine,  and  rising  into  the  clouds. 

Let  us  hear  what  Condivi  says.  "  In  every  re- 
spect," he  writes,  "this  Bacchus,  both  as  to  form  and 
expression,  corresponds  with  the  words  of  ancient 
authors.  The  countenance  full  of  merry  happiness, 
the  glance  wanton  and  craving,  as  is  the  case  usually 
with  those  who  love  wine,  he  holds  in  his  right  hand 
a  cup  as  he  were  going  to  drink,  and  looks  at  it  as  if 
he  already  in  fancy  sipped  the  wine,  of  which  he  is 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XV. 


THE  DRUNKEN  BACCHUS.  181 

the  originator.  For  this  reason  there  is  a  wreath  of 
vine-leaves  on  his  hrow.  Over  his  left  arm  hangs  a 
tiger-skin,  because  the  tiger,  who  loves  wine,  was 
sacred  to  him.  With  his  hand  he  has  grasped  a 
bunch  of  grapes,  from  which  a  little  satyr,  standing 
behind  him,  adroitly  and  cunningly  steals  away  the 
berries.  The  satyr  is  like  a  child  seven  years  of  age, 
the  god  himself  like  a  youth  of  eighteen." 

That  Condivi  appeals  only  to  the  ancient  writers, 
and  not  to  the  ancient  sculptures,  is  a  token  of  the 
unconcerned  manner  with  which,  even  in  his  days, 
antiquity  was  regarded.  They  used  what  it  offered ; 
but  to  be  influenced  by  it  occurred  to  no  one. 
Scenes  from  the  Greek  mythology  were  transferred 
to  the  most  modern  history,  just  as  had  before  been 
the  case  with  the  biblical  narrative.  Mars  is  a  naked 
Florentine  ;  Venus,  a  naked  Florentine  girl ;  Cupid, 
a  child  without  clothes.  It  never  entered  into  the 
artist's  mind  to' wish  to  improve  the  nature  which  he 
saw  before  him  by  any  antique  model,  —  to  "  ideal- 
ize," as  the  technical  term  is  at  the  present  day.  It 
would  have  been  contrary  to  nature,  had  Michael 
Angelo  wished  to  represent  a  drunken  Bacchus 
otherwise.  He  is  a  naked  youth  intoxicated  with 
wine.  The  statue  is  executed  in  the  finest  manner. 
His  limbs  are  pure  and  blameless.  We  might  say, 
that  the  nature  of  the  old  Donatello  prevailed  in  the 
young  Michael  Angelo.  But,  if  the  countenance  of 
the  statue  has  something  in  it  commonly  natural, 
the  ground  for  this  lies  in  his  wish  to  give  it  a  mild, 
but  evidently  Silenus-like  tone.* 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XVL 


182  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

But  we  are  recalling  to  mind  once  more  the  rev- 
elling god  of  the  Greeks,  whose  brilliant  beauty 
restrained  the  rebel  mariners,  and  dried  the  tears  of 
the  forsaken  Ariadne.  Penetrated  by  feelings  of  this 
kind,  and  biassed  besides  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
works  of  the  Greek  sculptors,  nothing  of  which  was 
known  in  Michael  Angelo's  time,  we  must  at  the 
present  day  carry  ourselves  back  to  his  point  of  view 
to  do  him  justice.  Michael  Angelo's  statue  is  placed 
in  the  gallery  of  the  Uffici,  in  a  dull,  uniform  side 
light.  Shelley,  the  great  English  poet,  calls  it  in 
one  of  his  letters  a  revolting  misunderstanding  of 
the  spirit  and  the  idea  of  Bacchus.  Drunken,  brutal, 
foolish,  it  is,  he  says ;  a  picture  of  the  most  detestable 
inebriety.  The  lower  half  is  stiff;  the  way  in  which 
the  shoulders  are  placed  with  the  neck  and  breast  is 
inharmonious,  —  in  short,  it  is  the  incoherent  fancy 
of  a  Catholic,  who  wished  to  represent  Bacchus  as  a 
god. 

Thus  unjust  does  ignorance  of  the  more  imme- 
diate circumstances  make  us.  Shelley  knew  none 
of  the  conditions  under  which  this  work  originated. 
Yet  he  revokes  his  judgment  himself.  "  The  work, 
however,  considered  in  itself,  has  merits,"  he  re- 
marks further.  "  The  arms  are  perfect  in  their 
manly  beauty ;  the  frame  is  powerfully  modelled, 
and  all  the  lines  flow  with  boldness  and  truth,  one 
into  the  other.  As  a  work  of  art,  unity  alone  is  want- 
ing ;  he  should  be  Bacchus  in  every  thing."  This 
appearance  of  lack  of  unity,  of  which  Shelley  com- 
plains, arose  from  the  fact  that  the  statue  was  badly 
placed.  In  the  court  of  the  Palazzo  Galli,  in  Rome, 


THE    PIETA.  183 

where  it  was  even  in  Condivi's  time,  the  cool  bright- 
ness streaming  down  upon  it  from  the  open  sky  must 
iiave  given  it  a  very  different  effect. 

For  the  same  Galli,  Michael  Angelo  executed  a 
Cupid,  which  was  likewise  to  be  seen  in  the  palace 
of  the  family,  and  was  then  lost,  till  it  seems  to  have 
come  to  light  again  in  a  statue  in  the  Kensington 
Museum. 

5. 

If  the  Bacchus  stands  in  a  disadvantageous  light, 
it  is  at  least  visible.  Michael  Angelo' s  principal 
work,  however,  —  that  work  by  which  he  suddenly 
passed  from  being  an  esteemed  artist  to  be  the  most 
famous  sculptor  in  Italy,  —  is  at  the  present  day  as 
good  as  veiled :  the  mourning  Mary  with  her  dead 
son  in  her  lap,  —  "  la  Pieta,"  as  the  Italians  call  the 
group.  The  Cardinal  of  San  Dionigi,  a  Frenchman, 
commissioned  him  to  do  it.  Placed  at  first  in  a  side 
chapel  in  the  old  Basilica  of  St.  Peter,  it  received 
another  place  on  the  rebuilding  of  the  church,  and 
now  again  stands  in  a  side  chapel  of  St.  Peter's,  so 
high,  however,  and  in  such  a  fatal  light,  that  it  is  for 
the  most  part  impossible  to  obtain  a  sight  of  it, 
either  near  or  at  a  distance.  Copies,  which  differ- 
ent sculptors  executed  for  Romish  and  Florentine 
churches,  are  out  of  consideration.  There  is  noth- 
ing left  but  to  stick  to  the  plaster  cast.* 

The  material,  however,  is  an  essential  element  in 
sculpture.  Wood,  marble,  and  bronze,  require  each 
peculiar  treatment.  A  work  in  bronze  cannot  bo 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XVII. 


184  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

mechanically  copied  in  marble,  without  losing  a  part 
of  its  meaning ;  still  less  can  a  work  in  marble  en- 
dure the  mechanical  imitation  in  metal.  Gypsum 
is,  however,  scarcely  a  material,  but  a  negative  dead 
substance,  which  only  gives  a  motionless  heavy 
repose,  instead  of  the  tender,  transparent,  almost 
moving  surface  of  the  marble.  That  ideal  similarity 
with  the  human  skin,  —  the  soft,  lightly-changing 
surface  and  lines  of  which  the  beautiful  stone  is 
capable  of  assuming,  —  is  lost  in  gypsum ;  still  it 
is  indispensable,  as  is  well  displayed  on  the  very 
occasion  in  wliich  it  is  inveighed  against  as  bad. 

A  closer  examination  of  the  Pieta  shows  us  how 
the  unusual  finish  of  the  detail  is  linked  with  a  won- 
derful harmony  in  the  whole.  On  all  sides,  the  group 
presents  noble  lines.  The  position  of  the  two  figures 
with  regard  to  each  other  is  the  usual  one ;  many 
painters  before  Michael  Angelo  have  so  represented. 
Mary  and  Christ.  But  how  far  does  Michael  Angelo 
surpass  them  all !  The  position  of  the  body  resting 
on  the  knees  of  the  woman ;  the  folds  of  her  dress, 
which  is  gathered  together  by  a  band  across  the 
bosom;  the  inclination  of  the  head,  as  she  bends 
over  her  son  in  a  manner  inconsolable  and  yet 
sv.blime,  or  his,  as  it  rests  in  her  arms  dead,  ex- 
hausted, and  with  mild  features, — we  feel  every 
touch  was  for  the  first  time  created  by  Michael 
Angelo,  and  that  that,  in  which  he  imitated  others 
in  this  group,  was  only  common  property,  which  he 
used  because  its  use  was  customary.  Only  workmen 
and  bunglers  speak  of  stolen  ideas.  Mental  property 
consists  not  in  that  wliich  may  be  taken  from  a  mas- 


THE   PIETA.  185 

ter,  but  in  that  of  which  no  one  can  rob  him,  even 
if  he  himself  would  allow  it.  Michael  Angelo  would 
not  have  been  able  to  make  use  of  the  ideas  of 
others.  They  would  have  burdened  him  instead 
of  advancing  him.* 

Our  deepest  sympathy  is  awakened  by  the  sight  of 
Christ.  The  two  legs,  with  weary  feet,  hanging 
down  sidewards  from  the  mother's  knee ;  the  falling 
arm ;  the  failing,  sunken  body ;  the  head  drooping 
backwards,  —  the  attitude  of  the  whole  human  form 
lying  there,  as  if  by  death  he  had  again  become  a 
child  whom  the  mother  had  taken  in  her  arms;  at 
the  same  time,  in  the  countenance,  there  is  a  won- 
derful blending  of  the  old  customary  Byzantine  type, 
—  the  longish  features  and  parted  beard,  and  the 
noblest  elements  of  the  national  Jewish  expression. 
None  before  Michael  Angelo  would  have  thought  of 
this ;  the  oftener  the  work  is  contemplated,  the  more 
touching  does  its  beauty  become,  —  everywhere  the 
purest  nature,  in  harmony  both  in  spirit  and  exte- 
rior. Whatever  previously  to  this  work  had  been 
produced  by  sculptors  in  Italy,  passes  into  shadow, 
and  assumes  the  appearance  of  attempts  in  which 
there  is  something  lacking,  whether  in  idea  or  in 
execution ;  here  both  are  provided  for.  The  artist, 
the  work,  and  the  circumstances  of  the  time,  combine 
together ;  and  the  result  is  something  that  deserves 
to  be  called  perfect.  Michael  Angelo  numbered 
four  and  twenty  years  when  he  had  finished  his  Pieta. 
He  was  the  first  master  in  Italy,  the  first  in  the 
world  from  henceforth,  says  Condivi ;  indeed  they 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XVIII. 


186  LIFE    OF   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

go  so  far  as  to  maintain,  lie  says  further,  that 
Michael  Angelo  surpassed  the  ancient  masters. 

How  was  it  possible,  that,  at  a  period  when  the 
breaking-up  of  all  political,  moral,  external  and 
internal  religious  things  was  to  be  expected,  that  in 
Rome,  the  centre  of  corruption,  a  work  like  this 
Madonna  could  be  produced,  could  be  deeply  felt  in 
its  beauty,  and  paid  for  dearly  by  one  of  those  very 
cardinals  ? 

Questions  were  at  that  time  started  respecting  the 
work,  on  which  no  one  now-a-days  would  have 
thought.  Mary  was  considered  too  young  in  rela- 
tion to  her  son.  Both  figures  stand  so  remote  from 
us,  as  regards  their  external  earthly  life,  that  this 
would  scarcely  occur  to  us  at  the  present  day ;  but 
the  matter  was  important  to  the  Italians  at  that  time, 
and  was  much  disputed.  Condivi  applied  to  Michael 
Angelo  himself;  and  the  latter  gave  him  an  cxplana- 
nation  which  we  find  noted  down  in  his  own  words. 
"  Do  you  not  know,"  he  answered  me  (says  Con- 
divi), "  that  chaste  women  remain  fresher  than  those 
who  are  not  so  ?  How  much  more,  then,  a  virgin 
who  has  never  been  led  astray  by  the  slightest  sinful 
desire?  But  yet  more,  if  such  youthful  bloom  is 
thus  naturally  retained  in  her,  we  must  believe  that 
the  divine  power  came  also  to  her  aid,  so  that  the 
maidenliness  and  imperishable  purity  of  the  mother 
of  God  might  appear  to  all  the  world.  Not  so 
necessary  was  this  in  the  Son ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
was  to  be  shown  how  he  in  truth  assumed  the 
human  form,  and  was  exposed  to  all  that  can  befall 
a  mortal  man,  sin  only  excepted.  Thus  it  was  not 


RELIGIOUS   BELIEF.  187 

necessary  here  to  place  his  divinity  before  his 
humanity,  but  to  represent  him  at  the  age  which, 
according  to  the  course  of  time,  he  had  reached. 
It  must  not,  therefore,  appear  amazing  to  you,  if  I 
have  represented  the  most  holy  Virgin  and  mother 
of  God  much  younger  in.  comparison  with  her  Son, 
than  regard  to  the  ordinary  maturing  of  man  might 
have  required,  and  that  I  have  left  the  Son  at  his 
natural  age." 

It  is  peculiar  to  the  Romanic  nations  to  feel  reli- 
gious things  more  materially  than  is  possible  to  us. 
"With  us,  religion  and  morality  coincide  ;  with  the 
Romans,  they  are  separate  territories.  The  kingdom 
of  God,  which  in  our  minds  resists  all  form,  is  to  the 
Romans  a  kingdom  situated  above  the  clouds,  con- 
taining an  ideal  copy  of  human  actions.  Around 
the  throne  of  God  (the  sommo  Giove,  as  Dante  calls 
him),  the  saints  are  encamped  in  different  degrees 
of  rank,  down  to  the  baser  souls ;  just  as  the  princes, 
the  nobles,  and  the  common  people  gather  round  the 
pope.  Rapture  is  the  path  that  leads  them  there. 
The  necessity  of  obtaining  a  sure  place  one  day  in 
this  paradisaical  state,  is  innate  in  every  Roman  ; 
and  the  Romish  religion  contains  teachings  as  to  its 
nature,  and  the  ways  that  lead  to  it.  Thus  tho 
Roman  sees  his  immortality  represented  to  him 
beforehand.  More  veiled,  when  he  reflects  upon  it 
distinctly ;  more  certain,  when  his  fancy-filled  long- 
ing raises  him  towards  it,  when  he  dreams  of  splen- 
dor and  gold  and  jewels,  when  he  tremble!  before 
a  sea  of  burning  fire,  or  bathes  with  eager  sensuality 
in  the  bright  streams  of  knowledge.  What  do  wo 


188  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

possess  on  the  other  hand  ?  Each  has  to  seek  his 
way  there  alone.  A  calm  expectation,  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  knowing  nothing,  but  yet  of  fostering  no 
vaiu  hope  of  a  higher  existence, — this  is  all  that  we 
profess,  instead  of  those  sure,  glorious  images.  The 
saint  shows  himself  to  us  more  in  thought  and  deed ; 
and  Christ  himself,  when  we  read  how  he  walked 
and  lived  upon  earth,  still  does  not  appear  to  us  with 
a  firm  countenance  and  in  an  earthly  form, — so  that 
we  desire  to  see  in  exact  lines  his  hands,  the  folds  of 
his  garments,  and  the  motion  of  his  feet :  but  we 
seek  to  surmise  the  thoughts  which  he  cherished, 
and  to  aqcompany  him  mentally  to  his  very  last 
moments.  The  outward  image  of  his  sufferings  is 
almost  too  touching  for  us  to  bear  its  representa- 
tion. 

With  the  Romans,  this  inner  life  stands  more  in 
the  background.  In  the  same  degree  as  they  see  the 
material  more  distinctly,  their  thoughts  vanish  into 
more  general  feelings.  With  us,  exactly  the  opposite 
is  the  case.  And  these  feelings,  which  spring  less 
from  that  which  is  done  and  thought  daily,  but  which 
hover  over  their  hearts  like  a  constant  higher  atmos- 
phere, are  as  necessary  to  them  as  the  air  they 
breathe.  Even  in  those  times  of  the  greatest  cor- 
ruption, they  were  not  wanting.  Only  those  clergy 
who  were  at  the  helm,  and  represented  religion,  were 
reprobate ;  the  longing  after  the  pure  and  the  divine 
ever  existed ;  and  the  attention  of  all  Italy  to  the 
voice  of*  Savonarola  proves  most  plainly  what  an 
ardent  desire  filled  men's  minds  to  free  themselves 
from  the  burden  of  those  parasitical  representatives 


SAVONAROLA.  189 

of  God  upon  earth,  and  to  return  to  the  pure  mean- 
ing of  true  Christianity. 

It  may  indeed  be  maintained,  that  those  times 
were  more  capable  than  our  own  of  conceiving  the 
characters  and  events  whose  connection  is  related 
in  the  New  Testament.  What  is  not  requisite  to 
express  that  glory  011  the  countenance  of  Christ, 
which  appeared  after  that  conflict  which  has  for  eigh- 
teen centuries  moved  the  world  to  tears  ?  We  heai 
of  it  first  as  children,  when  we  cannot  know  whal 
treachery  and  desertion,  what  life  and  death,  signify. 
And  even  our  subsequent  life,  though  we  may  suifer 
shipwreck,  never  lets  us  strike  against  the  rock  so 
plainly.  It  is  ever  only  mingled  feelings  which  move 
us  :  few  of  us  are  by  personal  fate  reminded  of  the 
tragedy  of  Christ's  sufferings,  which  exhaust  all 
the  sympathy  of  which  our  imagination  is  capable. 
To  die  as  the  lowest  malefactor,  between  malefactors  ; 
to  be  betrayed  and  denied  by  those  among  his  nearest 
friends ;  to  doubt  himself  at  last,  and  to  feel  himself 
forsaken  of  God  for  a  moment ;  and  to  be  obliged  to 
do  without  consolation  in  him  who  alone  remained 
faithful !  And  all  this  the  reward  of  what  ?  That 
men  should  calmly  and  purely  follow  in  his  steps,  who 
was  helpful  to  all,  and  injured  none.  Who  endures 
circumstances  at  the  present  day,  which  lead  to 
the  experience  of  even  a  reflection  of  this  fearful 
destiny  ? 

Such  were  the  times,  however,  in  which  Michael 
Angelo  lived.  The  prophecies  were  now  fuliilled 
which  Savonarola  had  declared  respecting  himself. 
He  had  more  than  once  foretold  that  his  course 


190  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. , 

would  bring  him  to  death.  Step  by  step  he  ap- 
proached this  end,  until  it  was  realized.  And  in 
Rome,  where  tidings  from  Florence,  in  its  most 
accurate  details,  was  received  daily,  these  events 
must  have  unceasingly  filled  Michael  Angelo's 
thoughts,  while  engaged  in  his  Pieta-. 

The  year  1496,  in  which  he  left  Florence,  had  been 
quiet  compared  with  the  following.  The  Piagnoni, 
the  name  borne  by  Savonarola's  party,*  were  in 
the  ascendency ;  and  neither  plague  nor  famine 
in  the  city,  nor  war  with  Pisa,  nor  the  threats  of  the 
Italian  league,  could  confound  them.  They  relied 
upon  France,  where  a  new  campaign  was  in  course 
of  preparation.  Even  the  arrival  of  the  King  of 
Rome  alarmed  them  not. 

The  Italian  campaign  of  Maximilian  sprang  from 
one  of  those  romantic  ideas  which  led  this  prince  to 
undertakings,  out  of  which  nothing  arose.  He  had 
acknowledged  Ludovico  Sforza  as  Duke  of  Milan, 
after  the  young  Yisconti,  with  whose  life  the  posses- 
sion was  connected,  had  at  length  perished.  Ludo- 
vico, who  attempted  in  every  manner  to  regain  Pisa, 
and  felt  himself  not  strong  enough  against  the  Ven- 
etians, who  pursued  the  same  object,  both  being 
united  for  a  while  against  Florence,  wished  to  engage 
Maximilian  in  his  interests,  and  knew  how  to  make 
it  evident  to  him  that  an  expedition  to  Italy  must 
have  the  most  splendid  results.  Pisa  and  Florence 
were  old  imperial  fiefs ;  if  he  came,  he  would  have 
to  decide.  The  allies  would  naturally  submit  to  his 
verdict,  and  even  Florence  would  yield  to  him  ;  and 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XIX. 


THE   FACTIONS   IN   FLORENCE.  191 

so,  while  lie  strengthened  his  own  authority  by  the 
settling  of  the  most  important  dispute,  he  would  help 
him,  his  most  faithful  confederate,  to  the  possession 
of  Pisa,  which  in  other  hands  would  be  but  an 
increase  of  power  to  his  enemies.  Maximilian  had 
neither  money  nor  troops ;  Ludovico  held  out  to  him 
a  promise  of  both.  So  he  appeared,  and  sailed  from 
Genoa  to  Livorno,  which  was  held  by  the  Florentines. 
The  result  did  not  meet  his  expectations.  The 
Venetians,  instead  of  yielding,  sent  fresh  troops  to 
Pisa ;  the  Florentines  absolutely  repulsed  him,  and 
he  was  obliged  to  march  back  to  Germany  as  he 
had  come. 

When,  however,  they  learned  in  Florence  that  the 
new  military  expedition  of  the  King  of  France  was 
advancing  with  no  definite  aim  ;  that  the  corn-vessels 
of  the  Florentine  merchants,  which  arrived  from 
Provence,  had  been  captured  or  frightened  away 
close  by  Livorno ;  and  that  the  pestilence  increased, — 
the  different  parties  opposed  each  other  with  greater 
rigor.  There  were  three  of  these  in  the  city, — 
the  friends  of  the  Medici,  the  enemies  of  Savonarola, 
and  his  adherents.  The  first  were  called  Palleski, 
from  the  arms  of  the  Medici,  which  consisted  of  a 
number  of  balls,  palle.  The  enemies  of  Savonarola 
were  called  the  Arrabbiata ;  that  is,  the  infuriated : 
ho  himself  had  given  them  the  name.  The  Piagnoni, 
however,  exceeded  both.  Their  processions  filled 
the  city ;  their  prayers,  and  the  sermons  of  thcii 
leader,  were  the  main  weapons  with  which  they  con- 
quered. He,  however,  ruled,  and  every  thing  tended 
only  to  strengthen  his  power  and  authority.  When 


192  LIFE    OP   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

the  offers  of  the  Italian  league  became  more  and 
more  enticing,  and  the  prospect  of  the  coming  of  the 
French  army  grew  more  and  more  uncertain,  he  held 
fast  to  hope,  and  persisted  in  his  purpose.  In  the 
midst  of  the  famine  which  spread  over  the  city  and 
the  surrounding  neighborhood,  so  that  the  country 
people  came  in  in  troops,  and  lay  in  the  streets  half 
dead  with  hunger,  he  organized  the  charity  of  his 
party.  The  carnival  processions,  in  which  children 
with  wreaths  of  flowers,  in  white  garments,  and 
with  red  crosses  in  their  hands,  collected  gifts,  con 
eluded  with  a  distribution  to  the  modest  poor.  Once, 
when  in  the  year  1496  the  distress  was  greatest,  he 
arranged  an  immense  procession ;  and,  just  as  all 
the  streets  were  full  of  people,  a  courier  came  at 
full  speed  through  the  gate  with  the  tidings  that  one 
of  the  expected  corn-vessels  had  arrived.  There 
is  something  touching  to  read  how  the  horseman, 
holding  a  green  bough  in  his  hand,  worked  his  way 
through  the  excited  throng,  over  the  Arno  bridge, 
along  the  banks,  to  the  palace  6f  the  Government. 
Such  apparent  wonders  increased  Savonarola's  power 
to  an  unlimited  extent.  There  is  no  trace  left  of 
his  having  misused  it. 

At  Christmas,  1496,  he  gathered  together,  in 
Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  more  than  thirteen  hundred 
boys  and  girls  up  to  eighteen  years  old,  that  they 
might  receive  the  sacrament.  The  piety  of  the 
children  in  the  midst  of  this  threatening  period 
touched  the  people  around  so  deeply  that  they  burst 
forth  into  loud  weeping.  The  carnival  of  1497 
brought  a  repetition  of  the  religious  plays  of  the 


SAVONAROLA  AS  A  TEACHER  OF  MORALS.    193 

former  year.  A  pyramid  was  again  raised  of  objects 
of  condemnation,  and  set  on  fire ;  and  the  houses 
which  had  contributed  to  it  received  a  blessing. 
There  were  again  dances,  singing  of  religious  songs, 
and  the  cry,  "  Viva  Cristo  il  re  di  Firenze !  Viva 
Maria  la  regina ! "  At  times,  however,  this  cry 
became  too  infuriated  even  for  Savonarola ;  and  he 
warned  from  the  pulpit  against  the  misuse  of  the 
bacred  words. 

The  enthusiasm  which  he  excited  had  its  more 
sober  side.  When  we  hear  of  dances,  and  see  the 
songs  which  were  written  at  these  festivals  of 
greater  frenzy, — maggior  pazzia,  as  he  himself  called 
them ;  when  we  think  how  young  and  old  were 
drawn  into  them ;  how  he  incited  the  children 
against  their  worldly  parents,  formed  them  into  a 
public  guard  of  morals,  so  that  they  might  accost 
people  in  the  streets,  and  walk  into  houses ;  how 
prayer  and  song  unceasingly  interrupted  daily  life, 
—  all  seems  carried  to  extreme,  and  the  dominion 
of  morbid  ideas  appears  brought  to  a  point  which 
must  gradually  lead  to  madness :  but,  more  closely 
considered,  things  wore  a  different  aspect.  The 
basis  of  his  doctrine  is  no  puritanical  code  of  morals, 
but  the  opposition  of  crime  and  the  maintenance  of 
public  morality,  such  as  is  carried  out  with  us  every- 
where at  the  present  day  without  resistance.  He 
never  required  aught  that  was  extraordinary  from 
men ;  but  public  life  was  indeed  of  such  a  nature 
that  instructions  which  seem  natural  to  us  appeared 
insufferable  to  the  Florentines.  His  instructions, 


194  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

how  the  day  was  to  be  begun,  and  business  carried 
on,  how  decorum  was  to  be  attended  to,  both  at 
home  and  abroad,  are  scarcely  worth  mention ;  all 
that  seems  strange  in  them  lies  rather  in  the  general 
habits  of  the  time,  than  in  the  fact  that  new,  unpre- 
cedented things  were  devised  by  him.  He  never 
appears  categorically  imperative ;  but  he  explains 
logically  the  detestableness  of  vice  and  of  immod- 
erate passions.  He  never  gives  pedantic  directions, 
but  appeals  to  his  hearers'  own  judgment.  He 
thunders  against  his  enemies,  and  invites  men  to 
turn  against  them,  as  he  himself  has  done ;  but  no 
word  can  be  proved  in  which  he  alludes  to  violence 
against  them.  Indeed,  it  appears  from  his  sermons, 
that,  even  at  the  time  when  he  could  really  have 
done  any  thing,  he  used  no  compulsion.  When  he 
calls  upon  honorable  women  again  and  again  to 
dress  themselves  modestly,  and  not  to  make  way  in 
the  streets  for  worthless  girls  and  courtesans,  but  to 
push  them  proudly  and  fearlessly  aside,  we  see  how 
little  he  could  do  to  overcome  luxurious  life  in 
Florence  ;  for  he  gives  these  admonitions  incessantly 
in  his  sermons,  —  a  sign  that  the  worthless  girls  and 
courtesans  were  not  prevented  from  playing  a  part 
in  the  streets. 

As  the  strife  of  parties  thus  continued,  that  in  the 
consiglio  grande  incessantly  ebbed  and  flowed.  It 
shows  what  freedom  existed,  and  how  cautiously  the 
Piagnoni,  in  spite  of  their  superior  power,  kept 
themselves  from  any  hostile  collision.  Even  their 
dances  have  something  natural  in  them.  It  was  an 
old  idea  to  think  of  eternal  blessedness  as  a  dance. 


SAVONAROLA  AS  A  TEACHER  OF  MORALS.    19o 

Fiesole  paints  the  joys  of  Paradise  in  a  dance  of 
angels,  who  form  long  chains,  hand  in  hand  alter- 
nately with  pious  monks,  and  soar  upwards,  singing. 
This  was  the  idea  of  the  pageants  which  the  customs 
of  the  city  demanded  of  Savonarola.  When  in 
earlier,  calmer  times,  he  had  gone  out  into  the 
country  with  the  monks,  as  prior  of  his  monastery, 
and  they,  sitting  in  the  wood,  had  disputed  learn- 
edly over  theological  matters,  and  had  listened  to 
his  words,  he  had  made  them  dance  when  their 
exercises  were  finished.  Lastly,  the  songs  sung, 
with  their  strange  words,  were  not  to  be  taken  in  a 
common  sense  :  they  harbored  a  deeper  mystical 
purport,  as  was  natural  to  the  theological  views  of 
the  time. 

It  was  just  this  restraint  of  the  Piagnoni  which 
made  a  more  effective  opposition  possible  on  the 
part  of  the  Arrabiati.  Emissaries  from  Florence 
directed  their  efforts  in  Rome  towards  putting  a 
stop  to  Savonarola's  proceedings.  At  the  end  of 
1496  came  the  third  admonition  from  the  pope  to 
abstain  from  preaching.  Savonarola  had  answered 
it  in  writing,  and  had  kept  quiet  for  some  time ; 
then,  however,  at  the  request  of  the  Florentine 
Government,  he  again  ascended  the  pulpit  in  spite 
of  the  pope.  He  might  perhaps  have  carried  his 
point ;  for  the  necessity  of  a  reform  was  fel  t  most 
deeply  at  Rome,  and  they  wished  at  the  same  time 
to  attract  the  Florentines  by  concession.  Savon- 
arola, however,  now  acted  somewhat  decidedly  on 
another  point.  He  began  to  interfere  more  deeply 
in  the  government  of  the  city ;  his  party  committed 


196  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

errors  in  this  department,  and  themselves  contributed 
to  his  fall. 

The  union  of  the  Arrabbiata  and  Palleski  had 
gradually  become  so  complete,  that  they  formed  the 
majority  in  the  consiglio  grande.  The  consiglio  had 
the  right  of  filling  the  offices  of  the  State,  and  the 
majority  gave  the  casting  vote.  Hitherto  the  Pal- 
leski had  voted  with  the  Piagnoni,  because,  with  the 
Piagnoni  in  power,  they  could  excite  the  public 
mind  for  the  Medici  better  than  under  the  Arrabiati, 
who  turned  energetically  against  both  sides,  and, 
demanding  liberty  without  Savonarola,  demanded  il 
also  without  the  Medici.  The  Piagnoni,  on  the  con- 
trary, would  constantly  admit  some  of  the  Palleski 
into  the  Signiory,  in  gratitude  for  help  afforded; 
and  upon  this  Piero  dei  Medici  had  based  his  plans. 

The  Piagnoni  knew  this.  They  determined  to 
admit  no  more  Palleski  into  the  Signiory.  The 
Arrabiati,  whose  rage  against  Savonarola  increased 
daily,  made  concessions  to  the  Palleski,  and  thus 
the  two  ultra  parties  became  united  against  the 
middle  one. 

The  Piagnoni  saw  themselves  in  the  minority,  and 
reflected  how  they  could  strengthen  their  side. 
Francesco  Valori,  who  was  gonfalonier  for  January 
and  February,  1497,  effected  a  change  in  the  consti- 
tution, which  was  intended  to  restore  to  his  party 
their  lost  superiority.  Yalori  stood  in  such  close 
connection  with  Savonarola,  that  i*  ys  to  be  pre- 
sumed that  the  plan  was  devised  by  him,  or  at  least 
that  he  approved  of  it. 

Hitherto,  thirty  years  of  age  had  been  necessary 


THE  ARRABBIATA  AND  PALLESKI.        197 

to  obtain  entrance  into  the  consiglio.  From  hence- 
forth, four  and  twenty  was  to  be  sufficient.  Savon- 
arola reckoned  upon  the  enthusiastic  youths,  upon 
the  young  men,  who  belonged  to  him  as  children, 
and  upon  the  children  who  yet  heard  him,  and  were 
rapidly  growing  up. 

In  order  to  carry  out  the  proposed  plan,  the  Pal 
leski  had  shown  themselves  ready  once  more  for 
union  with  the  Piagnoni ;  but  they  required,  in  re- 
turn, that  they  should  be  chosen  in  considerable 
number  in  the  Signiory  for  March  and  April.  They 
had  their  secret  plans.  Famine  kept  the  city  in 
tumult ;  on  the  10th  March,  the  market-place  was 
stormed  by  the  common  people.  The  masses  had 
always  been  favorable  to  the  Medici ;  and  the  Pal- 
leski  did  their  best  not  to  let  the  remembrance  of 
the  old  indulgent  lords  be  lost. 

In  order  not  to  excite  the  smallest  suspicion,  the 
Government  recommended  Savonarola's  cause  to  the 
pope.  In  secret  they  negotiated  with  Piero.  Secret 
messengers  passed  hither  and  thither  with  letters. 
It  was  settled  when  he  was  to  arrive  before  the  city, 
when  he  should  find  the  gates  open.  The  Orsini 
had  levied  the  necessary  troops.  On  a  feast-day, 
when  every  one  was  in  the  country,  the  attack  was 
to  be  carried  out.  It  took  place  on  the  28th  April. 
Piero  appeared  with  his  horsemen  before  the  gate  of 
San  Piero  di  Gattolini ;  wide  open  stood  the  portals, 
and  he  could  see  along  the  street  far  into  the  city, 
which  no  one  defended.  For  four  hours  he  thus 
stood,  and  ventured  not  to  enter ;  for  not  a  soul 
stirred  in  his  favor. 


198  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Iii  the  meanwhile  they  had  had  time  within  to  re- 
cover themselves. .  The  Signiory  had  before  appeared 
suspicious  ;  the  nobles  were  now  secured  in  the 
palace,  the  gates  of  the  city  were  closed,  and  the 
cannons  mounted.  Piero  turned  back  with  his  horse- 
men, and  arrived  again  at  Siena  at  evening,  just  as 
he  had  ridden  forth  in  the  early  morning.  There 
was  no  evidence  in  Florence  against  the  Signiory. 
Their  period  of  office  had  expired ;  they  resigned, 
and  their  successors  took  their  place.  This  time, 
however,  it  was  the  Arrabbiata  who  came  to  the 
helm! 

Yalori's  measure  was  to  blame  for  this.  The  new 
youthful  members  of  the  consiglio  had  voted  for  the 
first  time.  Instead,  however,  of  being  ardent  for 
Savonarola,  they  manifested  quite  another  feeling. 
Young  men  are  no  longer  children.  Hitherto  they 
had  been  compelled  to  endure  quietly  the  prohibition 
of  their  old  merry  life ;  now  they  possessed  voice, 
power,  and  influence  ;  and,  though  entering  the  hos- 
tile camp  with  drums  and  fifes,  they  caused  the 
situation  of  things  suddenly  to  change ;  and,  while 
every  thing  had  been  done  for  Savonarola  by  former 
governments,  nothing  was  now  neglected  by  which 
they  could  crush  him.  Lampoons  and  satirical 
poems  appeared  against  him.  In  Rome,  where  the 
Florentine  ambassador  had  hitherto  contrived  most 
artfully  to  keep  back  the  intended  excommunication, 
contrary  instructions  suddenly  arrived.  Fra  Mari- 
ano di  Ghenazzano,  who  once  had  preached  against 
Savonarola,  at  Lorenzo's  order,  and  had  been 
recently  banished  from  Florence  because  he  had 


SAVONAEOLA'S  EXCOMMUNICATION.  199 

helped  to  organize  the  unsuccessful  rising  in  favor 
of  Piero,  urged  at  the  Vatican  for  decisive  measures. 
The  Franciscan  and  Augustine  monks  at  Florence, 
the  old  enemies  of  the  Dominicans,  rose  with  un- 
wonted boldness ;  and  matters  soon  reached  such  a 
height  in  the  city,  that  Savonarola's  personal  safety 
seemed  endangered. 

Among  the  younger  nobles  of  the  Florentine  citi 
zens,  a  union  was  formed,  called  the  Companions, — 
gli  Compagnacci.  Their  object  was  to  restore  the  old 
Florentine  street  disorders.  On  the  1st  May,  the 
new  Signiory  entered  on  their  office  ;  and  on  the  3d, 
when  Savonarola  was  preaching  in  the  cathedral, 
the  Compagnacci  proceeded  to  open  scandal.  He 
was  going  to  mount  the  pulpit,  when  he  found  it 
hung  with  an  ass's  skin,  and  defiled  with  dirt.  It 
was  removed ;  the  sermon  began ;  in  the  midst 
of  it  a  hellish  noise  broke  out ;  he  was  obliged  to 
leave  off.  Surrounded  by  his  adherents,  who  fol- 
lowed him  armed,  he  turned  back  to  San  Marco ; 
and,  with  the  same  imposing  escort,  he  appeared 
daily  in  the  cathedral,  where  the  peace  was  not  dis- 
turbed. 

On  the  12th  May,  Alexander  Borgia  signed  the 
excommunication.  Forbearance  was  exhausted ; 
Savonarola's  ejection  was  to  be  made  publicly 
known,  and  preaching  was  to  be  prevented  by  force. 
But  the  pope's  commissioner  ventured  not  to  bring 
the  excommunication  personally  to  Florence ;  he 
communicated  it  to  the  Signiory  from  Siena,  and 
they  likewise  possessed  not  the  courage  to  proclaim 
it  publicly.  They  excused  themselves  by  saying  that 


200  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

they  had  not  received  it  direct,  hut  second-hand. 
The  Augustine  and  Franciscan  monks,  on  the  other 
hand,  declared  they  would  not  take  part  in  the  great 
procession  of  the  Feast  of  St.  John,  if  the  Domini- 
cans were  admitted.  It  was  therefore  intimated  to 
the  latter  to  keep  at  home  on  that  day. 

But  Savonarola,  after  the  blow  had  at  length 
fallen,  felt  himself  free  from  all  fetters.  He  pub- 
lished an  answer  to  the  pope's  bull  of  excommuni- 
cation, in  which  he  represented  Fra  Mariano,  the 
author  of  this  letter  of  condemnation,  as  a  man  who 
had  expressed  the  most  shameful  things  against  the 
pope  himself,  and  had  acted  treacherously  towards 
him.  In  a  letter,  addressed  to  all  Christians,  he 
protested  against  the  reproach  of  having  preached 
heretical  things,  and  of  having  refused  obedience  to 
the  pope  and  the  Church.  He  called  the  excommu- 
nication invalid.  We  are  only  to  obey  our  superiors, 
he  asserted,  so  far  as  their  commands  accord  with 
God's  word. 

In  saying  this,  however,  he  at  any  rate  cast  aside 
all  obedience.  Yet,  to  prove  how  necessary  his 
course  of  action  was,  he  now  thundered  against  the 
vices  of  Rome  with  a  severity  and  candor,  compared 
with  which  his  former  sermons  appeared  but  as  faint 
intimations.  And  the  literary  friends  on  his  side 
attempted  to  question  the  competence  of  the  pope. 

May  and  June  passed  away.  The  Arrabbiata,  it 
spite  of  their  energy,  had  been  able  to  effect  nothing 
decisive.  The  Palleski  separated  from  them  again, 
and,  united  with  the  Piagnoni,  created  a  Signiory  for 
July  and  August,  who  at  once  overturned  every  thing 


CONSPIRACY   OP   THE   PALLESKI.  201 

which  the  Arrabbiata  had  done.  Every  effort  was 
made  in  Rome  to  effect  a  revocation  of  the  ecclesi- 
astical punishment.  Influential  cardinals  used  their 
interest.  The  monks  of  San  Marco  drew  up  a 
defence,  which,  furnished  with  a  long  list  of  signa- 
tures, was  sent  to  Rome. 

Borgia,  however,  had  his  own  method.  He  insisted 
that  Savonarola  should  personally  appear  before  him. 
If  he  exculpated  himself  sufficiently,  he  would  dis- 
miss him  with  his  blessing ;  if  he  found  him  guilty, 
lie  would  punish  him  justly,  although  mercifully. 
But  every  one  knew  what  blessing  and  mercy  signi- 
fied here.  The  means  which  Cardinal  Piccolomini 
proposed  were  more  simple.  Five  thousand  golden 
florins,  he  thought,  would  alter  the  pope's  senti- 
ments. The  sum  could  have  been  easily  raised. 
Savonarola  declined  this,  as  he  had  before  declined 
the  cardinal's  hat,  with  which  his  silence  was  to  have 
been  purchased. 

Thus  they  negotiated  between  Rome  and  Flor- 
ence, when  suddenly  secrets  came  to  light,  which 
stirred  up  the  strife  of  parties  into  fury.  The  con- 
spiracy by  which  Piero  had  designed  in  April  to 
make  himself  master  of  the  city  was  discovered. 
It  was  proved  that  the  Signiory  for  March  and  April 
had  plotted  for  the  subversion  of  things  ;  and,  worse 
still,  that,  in  the  middle  of  August,  a  new  rising  in 
favor  of  the  Medici  was  in  contemplation. 

Five  men  of  the  first  families,  among  them  the 
former  gonfalonier  himself,  were  apprehended,  and, 
after  a  short  examination,  were  sentenced  to  death. 
The  plan  was  evident,  the  guilt  was  not  to  be  denied. 

8* 


202  ^IFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

All  was  betrayed,  —  not 'only  the  day,  but  the  lists 
of  the  families  whose  houses  and  palaces  were  to 
have  been  given  up  to  the  destruction  of  the  common 
people.  Still  more,  two  of  the  condemned  ones, 
Gianozzo  Pucci  and  Lorenzo  Tornabuoni,  who  had 
hitherto  appeared  as  the  most  devout  adherents  of 
Savonarola,  had,  as  it  now  came  to  light,  assumed 
this  mask  that  they  might  intrude  themselves  into 
the  conferences  of  the  Piagnoni,  and  possess  them- 
selves of  their  secrets. 

The  latter  felt  as  if  they  had  rested  on  a  volcano. 
To  avenge  themselves,  they  had  only  to  demand 
justice. 

But  one  way  of  escape  stood  open  to  the  con- 
demned, —  an  appeal  to  the  consiglio  grande.  Yalori 
had  introduced  this  appeal  himself.  Now  for  the 
second  time  it  occurred,  that  regulations  which  his 
party  had  made,  in  their  own  favor,  had  an  opposite 
effect.  The  Tornabuoni,  Pucci,  Cambi,  and  Ridolfi 
belonged  to  the  first  families  in  the  city,  and  could 
reckon  on  their  adherents  among  the  people.  Ber- 
nardo del  Nero,  the  treasonable  gonfalonier,  —  an 
honorable  man,  but  for  his  old  friendship  and  grate- 
ful attachment  to  the  Medici,  —  pure  and  unblamable, 
and  seventy-five  years  old,  might  not  appeal  in  vain 
to  the  pity  of  the  citizens,  to  whatever  party  they 
might  belong. 

The  Signiory  were  in  the  most  difficult  position. 
The  acquittal  of  the  accused  by  the  consiglio  grande 
might  have  induced  the  Piagnoni  to  rise  in  arms, 
to  execute  the  vengeance  which  the  Government  re- 
fused. But  not  to  permit  the  appeal  was  against 


SAVONAROLA.  203 

the  law.  In  Rome,  in  Milan,  in  France,  the  Medici 
strained  every  nerve  to  raise  an  interest  for  the 
victims  of  their  policy.  Francesco  Valori,  however, 
baffled  every  attempt  at  rescue.  His  house  had  been 
among  those  which  was  to  have  been  stormed  and 
plundered.  Giovio  asserts  that  the  burning  hatred 
of  this  man  against  Bernardo  del  Nero  decided  the 
matter.  The  remaining  four  had  been  Ms  friends ; 
but,  for  the  sake  of  striking  this  one,  he  sacrificed  all. 
After  the  most  impetuous  scenes  among  the  members 
of  the  Government,  it  was  declared  that  the  higher 
consideration  for  the  welfare  of  the  State  made  the 
suspension  of  the  law  under  the  present  circum 
stances  necessary ;  and  the  five  were  put  to  death. 
Whether  Savonarola  brought  about  this  deed,  or 
could  have  prevented  it,  and  neglected  to  use  his 
influence,  is  not  to  be  said.  It  is  only  certain  that 
they  wavered,  and  that  Valori's  energy  turned  the 
scale.  He,  as  the  most  zealous  adherent  of  Savon- 
arola, threw  a  greater  responsibility  upon  him.  It 
lay  in  the  nature  of  the  matter,  that  it  should  thus 
be  judged  of.  Savonarola  appeared  as  the  author  of 
the  resolution ;  and  his  guilt  reflected  on  the  sect 
of  the  Piagnoni.  They  had  made  the  law,  —  they 
had  evaded  it.  There  could  be  no  heavier  accusation 
in  this  commercial  State,  so  strict  in  its  regulations 
as  to  the  observance  of  its  laws.  A  reproach  from 
henceforth  could  be  raised  against  it  which  allowed 
of  no  excuse.  Circumstances  might  have  been  ever 
so  cogent,  but  the  law  had  been  disregarded.  "  From 
this  moment,"  says  Macchiavelli,  "  it  fared  ill  with 
Savonarola." 


204  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Still  the  Government  remained  until  March,  1498, 
in  the  hands  of  his  adherents.  In  Rome,  matters 
continued  the  same.  The  pope  demanded  his  per- 
sonal appearance  ;  Savonarola  replied  by  books  and 
letters.  The  clergy  of  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  the 
archbishop  at  their  head,  would  not  suffer  that  an 
excommunicated  person  should  mount  their  pulpit ; 
the  Government  ceased  to  oppose.  The  crowd  of 
people  was  immense  when  Savonarola  preached. 
The  carnival  was  celebrated  for  the  third  time 
according  to  the  rites  he  had  prescribed.  Never  did 
the  power  of  the  man  appear  so  great  as  at  that 
period ;  and  yet  the  crisis  was  near  at  hand  which 
was  to  be  the  end  of  his  work  and  of  his  life. 

6. 

I  find,  wherever  mention  is  made  of  Savonarola, 
his  decline  is  too  much  represented  as  the  result  of 
the  efforts  of  his  enemies  and  of  papal  anger.  The 
constraining  cause  of  his  fall  was  the  waning  of  his 
magic  power.  The  people  grew  weary,  —  their 
minds  needed  fresh  stimulus.  For  a  long  time  he 
succeeded  in  exciting  the  declining  enthusiasm. 
But,  while  it  seemed  outwardly  even  to  increase,  its 
vast  strength  was  consuming.  Savonarola  arrived 
at  a  point  where  he  must  have  been  a  god  to  hold 
his  ground  further. 

The  great  families  of  the  State  belonged,  from  the 
first,  to  the  adherents  of  the  Medici,  or  to  Savona- 
rola's systematic  adversaries,  the  Arrabbiata ;  only  a 
few  joined  the  Piagnoni,  and  these  were  such  as 
ambition  as  well  as  internal  conviction  placed  on 


SAVONAROLA.  205 

Savonarola's  side.  Since  the  introduction  of  the 
consiglio  grande,  in  which  every  citizen,  poor  or  rich, 
had  his  one  vote,  the  nobles  daily  felt  how  much  they 
had  lost  in  the  re-organization  of  the  State.  People 
of  low  degree  —  artisans  coming  from  their  work- 
shops—  attained  to  the  highest  offices  of  the  State 
by  the  majority  of  votes  on  their  side.  The  severity 
with  which  the  laws  against  luxury  were  enforced, 
appeared  like  a  revenge  on  the  part  of  the  less 
wealthy  against  the  rich.  The  execution  of  the  five 
conspirators  also  assumed  the  appearance  of  revenge. 
It  was  to  be  shown,  in  a  striking  manner,  that 
neither  their  rank  nor  their  wealth  protected  them. 
More  and  more,  such  feelings  mingled  with  the  first 
pure  religious  enthusiasm.  They  were  for  Savona- 
rola ;  but  they  were  also  for  Valori,  and  for  others 
who  with  him  led  the  multitude.  Thus  it  was 
again  a  few  noble  familes,  who  usurped,  through 
Savonarola,  the  direction  of  the  State,  and  drew  the 
lower  people  after  them. 

Outwardly,  things  advanced  not.  Pisa  was  lost ; 
Charles  VIII.  returned  not ;  no  agreement  was  to 
be  come  to  with  the  pope.  Famine  and  pestilence 
had  severely  attacked  the  city ;  commerce  could 
not  longer  endure  the  continued  insecurity.  And 
thus  the  clouds  gathered  together  against  Savona- 
rola, as  before  against  Piero  ;  and  the  feeling  gained 
ground,  that  the  general  state  of  things  was  not  the 
right  one. 

Savonarola  surveyed  the  position  of  affairs.  He 
had  anticipated  and  predicted  his  fall ;  but  he  was 
not  willing  to  yield  without  a  struggle.  He  could 


206  LIFE  OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

subdue  the  opposition  in  Florence ;  but  his  enemies 
at  the  Vatican  remained  invulnerable  so  long  as 
Alexander  was  there :  he  must  strike  him.  By 
forcible  letters  to  the  highest  princes  of  Christen- 
dom,— to  the  emperor,  the  kings  of  England,  Spain, 
and  France, — he  demanded,  while  he  appealed  to 
the  acknowledged  depravity  of  Borgia,  and  the 
necessity  of  a  reform  in  church  government,  the 
forming  of  a  council  by  which  the  pope  should  be 
judged  and  deposed.  One  of  the  letters,  addressed 
to  Charles  VIII. ,  was  intercepted  by  Ludovico  Sforza, 
and  sent  by  him  to  the  Vatican. 

The  severe  sermons  of  Savonarola  had  caused  the 
pope  no  uneasiness  hitherto.  Borgia  troubled  him- 
self but  little  about  concealing  his  actions,  or  about 
that  which  was  said  of  them.  He  had  greater  things 
hi  his  mind  than  this  dispute  with  the  prior  of  San 
Marco.  A  council,  however,  was  the  tender  point 
in  his  power, — it  was  the  only  thing  which  the  popes 
feared.  For  the  opinion  prevailed  at  that  time,  that 
the  assembled  cardinals  could  call  the  pope  to 
account,  and  depose  him. 

Alexander  called  upon  the  Government  of  Flor- 
ence to  prohibit  the  preaching  of  Savonarola,  and  to 
deliver  him  up  to  Rome.  He  expected  no  written 
justification,  but  actual  obedience.  In  case  of 
refusal,  he  threatened  to  lay  the  city  under  an  inter- 
dict. Savonarola  from  henceforth  preached  no 
longer  in  the  cathedral ;  but  he  did  so  all  the 
more  vehemently  in  the  church  of  his  monastery. 
This  took  place  early  in  March,  1498.  He  urged 
from  the  pulpit  that  a  council  should  be  called.  The 


SAVONAROLA.  207 

pope,  infuriated,  issued  a  new  summons  to  Flor- 
ence ;  lie  threatened  to  make  the  Florentine  mer- 
chants in  Rome  suffer  for  it !  but  the  new  Signiory, 
although  for  the  majority  formed  of  Arrabbiata,  ven- 
tured not  to  interfere  at  once.  After  stormy  confer- 
ences, Savonarola,  however,  was  at  length  forbidden 
to  preach  in  the  monastery.  More  against  him  they 
ventured  not.  On  the  18th  March  he  preached  for 
the  last  time  ;  and,  while  predicting  divine  punish- 
ment against  the  pope,  the  Romish  economy,  and 
the  Florentines,  moved  at  the  same  time  by  anticipa- 
tion of  his  own  speedy  fall,  he  took  farewell  of  his 
congregation. 

Reading  these  last  sermons,  we  cannot  do  other- 
wise than  admire  the  man  who,  in  the  midst  of  wild 
and  vague  passions,  keeping  to  his  own  pure  convic- 
tions, voluntarily  resigned  himself  as  a  victim  to  his 
doctrines.  He  could  still  have  excited  the  people  to 
fury,  and  have  called  forth  a  contest,  the  issue  of 
which  would  have  been  doubtful.  Yet  he  scorned 
other  weapons  than  those  which  lie  in  the  mind  of 
man.  He  only  wished  to  express  what  stood  clearly 
before  him,  trusting  that  good  would  be  the  result. 
His  political  views  were  always  clear  and  simple. 
He  knew  nothing  of  intrigue  and  self-interest.  He 
dismissed  his  brother  with  severity,  when  he  wished 
to  use  his  interest  in  pushing  his  fortune.  He  led 
the  simplest  mode  of  life.  A  tone  of  truth  pervades 
his  words,  the  power  of  which  is  felt  even  at  the 
present  day  in  a  manner  sadly  strange,  converting 
our  opposition  into  sentiments  of  pity. 

We  perceive  so  thoroughly  the  delusion  to  which 


208  LIFE    OF    MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

he  resigned  himself.  At  first  he  inspired  the  people, 
filling  them  with  the  anticipation  of  a  nobler  exist- 
ence. He  forgot  that  human  nature  is  only  capable 
of  passing  moments  of  elevation,  though  these  mo- 
ments are  sometimes  prolonged,  and  endure  for  a 
time.  He,  however,  wished  to  change  their  sudden 
flames  into  lasting  fervency ;  he  poured  into  the 
veins  of  the  Florentines  that  fire  which  was  even 
consuming  himself;  he  called  forth  a  fanaticism, 
and,  deceived  by  its  power  and  continuance,  he  con- 
sidered it  the  actual  beginning  of  a  purer  nature. 
And  then  at  length,  when,  wearied  himself,  he  wished 
to  lean  upon  this  strength,  he  was  compelled  to  per- 
ceive that  he,  solely  and  singly,  had  possessed  power, 
and  that  the  echo  was  not  a  voice  which  could  con- 
tinue to  speak  when  his  own  words  were  dumb. 
His  observant  mind  was  too  clear  not  to  have  always 
a  misgiving  of  this  end  of  things :  his  keen  eye  now 
at  once  discovered  it.  For  this  reason  he  spoke  with 
such  certainty  of  his  fall ;  and  at  the  end  of  a  letter 
to  the  pope,  composed  with  perfect  self-possession, 
and  written  at  a  time  when  he  had  no  reason  for 
apprehension,  he  expressed  the  earnest  longing  with 
which  he  awaited  death. 

After  Savonarola's  voluntary  resignation,  the  Sig- 
niory  imagined  themselves  spared  further  steps. 
They  notified  to  the  pope,  through  their  envoys,  that 
-  they  had  acted  according  to  his  wishes ;  and  they 
pacified  themselves  for  the  moment.  But  now  in 
Florence,  and  within  the  party  of  the  Piagnoni  them- 
selves, the  seed  which  Savonarola  had  scattered 
began  to  bear  fruit,  yielding  the  poison  to  which  lie 
owed  his  death. 


SAVONAROLA.  209 

He  had  never  set  himself  up  as  a  prophet ;  but  he 
had  certainly  exhibited  himself  as  a  chosen  instru- 
ment of  God,  by  whom  the  future  was  predicted. 
He  had  truly  only  declined  the  name  of  a  prophet, 
that  he  might  not  be  accused  of  arrogance,  of  having 
wished  to  rank  himself  with  the  prophets  of  the  Old 
Testament.  In  his  sermons,  he  addressed  men  as  if 
he  penetrated  completely  into  their  souls;  he  had 
spoken  of  miracles  by  which  the  city  would  be  saved ; 
he  had  communicated  visions  which  revealed  to  him 
the  will  of  God,  and  had  not  disclaimed  the  idea  that 
miracles  might  be  worked  by  himself. 

In  this  the  Piagnoni  believed  as  an  irrefragable 
truth.  They  trusted  implicitly  in  his  personal  power. 
When  Piero  had  appeared  before  the  city,  which 
stood  open  and  undefended,  and  they  had  rushed 
with  the  tidings  to  Savonarola,  he  calmly  answered 
that  they  need  not  close  the  gates  on  account  of 
Piero ;  for  he  would  not  venture  to  set  foot  within 
the  city.  And  Medici  had  returned  to  Siena !  To 
the  people,  Savonarola  was  prophet,  magician,  saint, 
— the  man  to  whom  God  had  revealed  the  govern- 
ment of  the  city ;  who  knew  every  thing,  could  do 
every  thing,  and  whom  no  power  could  affect.  His 
enemies,  however,  considered  him  as  a  deceiver,  who 
understood  cunningly  how  to  force  this  superstition 
upon  the  people. 

It  lies,  however,  in  the  nature  of  the  multitude 
that  from  time  to  time  they  require  to  see  striking 
proofs  of  the  power  of  the  man  whom  they  consider 
so  mighty.     Savonarola  had  predicted  the  coming 
of  the  French ;  had  announced  beforehand  the  arrival 


210  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

of  vessels  of  corn  during  the  famine ;  had  said  and 
known  many  things,  which  those  concerned  con 
sidered  the  result  of  his  inmost  mysterious  power: 
but  all  this  had  grown  old,  and  they  desired  fresh 
deeds.  They  required  something  with  which  they 
could  intoxicate  themselves  anew,  the  mere  mention 
of  which  would  crush  every  thing  which  Savonarola's 
enemies  brought  forward.  The  Signiory  had  pro- 
hibited his  preaching,  and  he  had  withdrawn.  They 
cherished  the  hope  that  he  would  suddenly  distin- 
guish himself  anew  by  some  prodigious  act,  and,  as 
had  so  often  happened,  triumph  splendidly  over  his 
enemies. 

Thus  they  thought  during  the  Lent  of  1498,  when 
Domenico  da  Pescia,  his  most  faithful  adherent  and 
companion,  preached  instead  of  him  at  San  Marco ; 
whilst,  in  the  other  churches,  the  clergy,  who  were 
otherwise  inclined,  raised  their  voices  loudly  against 
him.  Francesco  da  Puglia,  a  Franciscan,  who  was 
preaching  in  Santa  Croce,  challenged  Savonarola  to 
prove  by  a  miracle  the  genuineness  of  his  doctrines. 
Domenico  at  once  replied  that  he  would  go  through 
fire  for  Savonarola.  The  word  once  spoken  gained 
ground  demoniacally ;  and  soon  the  matter  was  so 
wrested,  that  Savonarola  himself  was  to  pass  through 
the  flames.  His  friends  urged  just  as  much  as  his 
enemies ;  and  so  sure  were  the  Piagnoni  of  their 
cause,  that  all  the  three  hundred  monks  of  San 
Marco,  with  a  number  of  nuns,  men,  women,  and 
children,  desired  in  common  with  him  to  stand  the 
test. 

The  Signiory  took  the  matter  in  hand.     They  in 


SAVONAEOLA.  211 

quired  of  Savonarola.  He  refused  the  test;  but, 
urged  by  friends  still  more  than  by  the  adverse  party, 
he  at  last  declared  himself  ready.  A  stake  was  to 
be  set  up  on  the  Piazza ;  and  on  one  side  Savonarola, 
on  the  other  the  Franciscan  who  was  willing  to  lay 
down  his  life  for  him,  was  to  step  into  the  flames. 

The  tenets  for  which  Savonarola  was  thus  to 
answer  with  his  life  were  the  following :  "  That  the 
Church  required  remodelling  and  reviving.  That 
the  Church  would  be  chastised  by  God ;  that,  after 
that,  she  would  be  remodelled,  and  revive  and 
flourish.  That  the  unbelieving  would  then  be  con- 
verted. That  Florence  would  be  punished,  and  then 
revive  and  bloom  afresh.  That  all  this  would  take 
place  in  our  own  days.  That  the  excommunication 
decreed  him  was  invalid ;  that  not  caring  for  it  was 
not  a  matter  of  sin."  The  last  sentence  was  alone 
important,  as  a  denial  of  the  papal  power  in  an 
especial  case ;  which,  however,  might  be  urged  in 
all  cases. 

Savonarola  imagined  not,  when  he  appeared  on 
the  Piazza  on  the  7th  April,  that  at  the  same  hour 
King  Charles  of  France  was  breathing  his  last. 
Apoplexy  carried  him  off  at  Amboise.  Had  matters 
gone  as  Savonarola  hoped,  he  would  once  again  have 
liberated  Italy;  he  would  have  given  back  Pisa  to 
the  Florentines,  called  a  council,  appointed  another 
pope,  and  then  opposed,  conquered,  and  converted 
the  unbelieving.  Many  men  of  power  shared  this 
idea,  though  from  less '  noble  motives.  Nothing  of 
this  had,  however,  taken  place ;  the  king  had  died, 
and  fate  regarded  not  the  thoughts  of  those  who  had 


212  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

supposed  they  could  form  the  future  according  to 
their  own  will. 

Across  the  Piazza,  a  raised  path  had  been  prepared, 
which,  piled  upon  both  sides  with  inflammable 
matter,  could  be  converted  into  an  avenue  of  flames. 
Armed  men  closed  in  the  square ;  the  people 
crowded  round  it,  and  filled  the  windows  of  the 
surrounding  buildings.  Franciscans  and  Dominicans 
appeared  in  procession,  —  the  former  silent,  the 
latter  singing  religious  songs.  The  test  was  to  begin. 
The  Franciscans  raised  objections.  Savonarola  ought, 
they  said,  to  change  his  garments.  They  conjec- 
tured that  some  magic  might  rest  in  them.  They 
examined  him  to  the  bare  skin.  They  would  not 
permit  that  lie  should  take  the  host  with  him  into 
the  fire.  He  would  not,  however,  give  it  up.  They 
disputed ;  the  time  passed ;  impatience  and  hunger 
tired  out  the  people ;  it  began  to  rain :  the  day  was 
wasted  without  any  thing  taking  place ;  the  report 
spread,  that  Savonarola's  cowardice  was  the  cause  of 
the  delay.  At  length  it  was  announced  that  the 
fiery  test  was  at  an  end  for  that  day. 

It  was  the  Piagnoni  who  suffered  most  deeply  from 
the  feeling  of  having  been  undeceived.  They  had 
reckoned  on  the  splendid  satisfaction  of  their  pride ; 
they  were  now  laughed  at  for  it,  and  had  nothing  to 
rejoin.  It  occurred  to  no  one,  as  has  been  often 
subsequently  asserted,  that  the  delay  was  artfully 
brought  about  by  the  Signiory,  in  concert  with  the 
Franciscans ;  and  that  the  effect  was  just  what  had 
been  expected.  Without  having  a  hair  singed,  the 
Franciscans  retreated  in  triumph  ;  whilst  Savonarola 


SAVONAROLA.  213 

was  obliged  to  be  defended  with  arms  against  the 
crowding  multitudes  on  his  way  to  San  Marco. 
Arrived  there,  he  entered  the  pulpit,  related  all  that 
had  happened,  and  dismissed  his  adherents. 

So  far  is  an  ascertained  fact,  that,  on  the  30th 
March,  —  three  weeks,  therefore,  before  these  events, 
— the  Signiory  had  taken  the  secret  resolution,  that 
the  brethren  of  San  Marco,  or  the  Franciscans, 
according  as  the  ordeal  should  turn  out,  should 
leave  the  Florentine  territory.  On  the  6th  April,  — 
while  as  yet  there  was  only  mention  of  Domenico  da 
Pescia,  and  not  of  Savonarola,  —  they  had  come  to 
the  second  determination,  that  Savonarola,  in  case 
Domenico  should  perish  in  the  fire,  should  leave 
within  three  hours.  Lastly,  a  third  resolve  is  said 
to  have  been  brought  about,  to  this  effect,  —  that 
under  no  circumstances  should  the  Franciscan  be 
allowed  to  stand  the  test.  They  feared,  therefore, 
the  realization  of  the  miracle  ;  and,  in  the  camp  of 
the  enemy  itself,  they  believed  in  Savonarola's  divine 
power.  Still  it  has  never  been  possible  to  produce 
proofs  of  the  existence  of  this  last  resolution. 

Many  of  the  Piagnoni  fled  at  once ;  others  re- 
mained armed  in  their  houses,  or  repaired  to  the 
monastery  of  San  Marco,  where  they  placed  them- 
selves in  a  state  of  defence.  It  was  not  at  that 
time  a  rare  occurrence,  that  monasteries  should  be 
converted  into  fortresses.  The  sons  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished families  had  entered  San  Marco,  to  con- 
secrate themselves  to  the  Church ;  their  relatives 
now  came,  to  await  and  repulse  the  storm  for  their 
sake. 


214  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

The  following  day,  the  8th  April,  was  Palm  Sun- 
day. The  decree  of  the  Signiory,  that  Savonarola 
was  to  be  banished  from  Florence,  bears  this  date.* 
Early  in  the  morning,  he  preached  in  the  church  of 
the  monastery.  At  the  close  he  foretold  what  was 
to  happen,  took  farewell  of  his  people,  and  gave  them 
his  blessing.  It  was  not  till  evening  that  the  stir 
began  among  the  Arrabiati.  A  Dominican  was 
preaching  in  the  cathedral.  The  Compagnacci  burst 
open  the  doors,  crying,  and  pressing  upon  the  Piag- 
noni,  who  fled.  Outside  there  stood  an  immense 
multitude.  The  cry  sounded  suddenly  on  all  sides, 
"  To  arms,  to  arms  !  To  San  Marco,  to  San  Marco ! " 
The  church  was  filled ;  they  knocked  down  the  doors 
from  without,  and  rushed  in ;  within  they  resisted, 
and  defended  themselves.  The  guard  of  the  palace 
appeared.  They  found  the  entrances  to  the  monas- 
tery barricaded,  and  desperate  defenders  behind  the 
gates;  monks  with  coats  of  mail  over  their  cowls, 
and  with  arquebuses,  from  which  they  fired  ;  and,  in 
the  midst  of  them,  women  and  children  who  had  not 
been  able  to  leave  the  church,  and  whose  cries 
answered  to  the  roar  of  the  multitude  without.  A 
young,  light-bearded  German,  named  Heinrich,  was 
the  bravest  among  the  monks  of  San  Marco,  and 
used  his  rifle  with  especial  skill. 

When  the  messengers  of  the  Signiory  had  found  a 
hearing,  they  announced  the  order,  that  all  those 
who  belonged  not  to  the  monastery  were  to  leave  it. 
Whoever  did  not  go,  would  be  considered  guilty 
of  high  treason.  Many  obeyed.  Savonarola  would 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XX. 


SAVONAROLA'S  FALL.  215 

Lave  voluntarily  given  himself  up;  but  his  party  held 
him  back  against  his  will.  They  feared  that  the 
people  would  have  torn  him  in  pieces.  The  monas- 
tery had  a  little  garden  door,  through  which  some 
of  the  most  distinguished  Piagnoni  endeavored  to 
escape  ;  among  these  was  Francesco  Valori.  He  was 
watched,  however,  by  the  Tornabuoni,  Pucci,  and 
Bidolfi,  with  others  who  had  so  ardently  awaited  this 
day  of  vengeance.  He  was  at  once  surrounded,  and 
struck  dead  to  the  ground ;  and  they  now  proceeded 
*to  his  palace.  His  wife,  who  was  standing  at  the 
window  above,  was  killed  by  a  shot  from  a  cross-bow 
in  the  street  below ;  they  stormed  the  house,  plun- 
dered it,  and  strangled  a  grandchild  of  Francesco's, 
who  lay  in  the  cradle.  Soderini's  house  fared  bet- 
ter. Here  the  archbishop  of  Volterra,  who  was  a 
Soderini,  advanced  to  meet  the  approaching  mul- 
titude in  the  full  robes  of  his  order;  and,  by  his 
appearance  and  thundering  words,  brought  them 
to  a  different  mind. 

In  front  of  San  Marco,  it  had  become  more  peace- 
ful ;  the  night  had  long  ago  fallen  upon  the  monas- 
tery, before  the  infuriated  people  returned  there. 
They  set  fire  to  it ;  the  doors  were  burned  down  and 
broken  through;  and  Savonarola  was  conveyed  to 
the  palace  by  the  messengers  of  the  Signiory,  with- 
out whose  protection  he  would  have  been  lost.  With 
him  was  Domenico  da  Pescia,  and  a  third  Domini- 
can, named  Silvestro.  They  could  scarcely  protect 
him  from  the  ill-usage  of  the  mob.  They  struck 
Mm,  and  cried  in  derision  that  ho  ought  to  pro- 
phesy who  had  done  it.  They  cullod,  "  Physician, 


216  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

heal  thyself!  "  Dead  and  wounded  lay  on  the  square 
in  front  of  the  monastery.  The  monks  came  out,  and 
carried  them  within,  to  help  them  or  to  bury  them. 

And  now  began  a  procedure,  which  was  short,  but 
which  seems  endless  if  we  follow  step  by  step  the 
torments  which  Savonarola  had  to  endure.  The 
pope  required  him  in  Rome,  but  condescended  to 
send  a  commissioner.  Savonarola  was  put  to  the 
torture ;  it  is  accurately  recorded  in  what  manner. 
His  powers  forsook  him  under  the  hands  of  his  tor- 
mentors ;  for  he  was  a  tender,  sickly  nature :  hardly 
was  he  set  free,  than  he  revoked  every  thing.  The 
torture  was  repeated  at  different  times.  Nardi,  who 
is  conscientious  in  Ms  statements,  protests  that  he 
heard  from  the  best  sources,  that  the  reports  were 
falsified  when  written  down.  The  pope's  commis- 
sioner carelessly  acknowledged,  subsequently,  that 
Savonarola  had  been  guiltless,  and  the  procedure 
had  been  contrived,  which  the  Florentines  had  had 
printed  for  the  sake  of  their  own  justification. 
Savonarola  was  sentenced  to  death  ;  and,  on  the  23d 
May,  1498,  on  Ascension  Day,  the  sentence  was 
carried  into  execution. 

The  stake  was  erected  on  the  square  in  front  of 
the  palace  of  the  Government.  In  the  midst  of  it 
projected  a  high  pole  with  three  arms,  stretching  out 
in  different  directions.  As  the  three  men  were  to 
reach  this  gallows  across  a  kind  of  flying  bridge,  the 
Florentine  mob  stuck  pointed  wooden  nails  between 
the  boards  along  the  passage,  upon  which  they  trod 
with  their  bare  feet.  *  Savonarola's  last  words  were 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XX. 


SAVONAROLA'S  FALL.  217 

consolation  to  his  companions,  who  were  suffering 
with  him.  There  they  hung  all  three,  and  the 
flames  enveloped  them.  A  powerful  gust  of  wind 
drove  them  suddenly  aside  ;  for  a  moment,  the  Piag- 
noni  believed 'that  a  miracle  was  about  to  happen. 
But  the  fire  again  covered  them ;  and  they  soon  fell, 
with  the  burning  scaffold,  into  the  flames  below. 
Their  ashes  were  thrown  into  the  Arno  from  the  old 
bridge.  What  thoughts  must  have  moved  Savona- 
rola's soul,  when  the  people  whom  he  had  for  years 
stimulated  or  curbed,  whom  he  had  so  completely 
ruled  by  his  words,  stood  around  dull  and  indifferent! 

7. 

The  severest  thing  of  which  Savonarola  has  been 
charged  is  the  reproach  of  having  incited  his  party 
to  remove  their  enemies  by  force.  So  says  Macchia- 
velli.  It  all  came  to  nothing,  he  asserts,  because 
the  people  did  not  understand  his  insinuations  suf- 
ficiently. We  may  answer  to  this,  that  the  Piagnorii 
were  on  the  point  many  times  of  striking,  and  that 
Savonarola  restrained  them.  We  may  further  re- 
join, that  Macchiavelli,  whose  impartiality  in  other 
cases  appears  so  admirable,  allowed  himself  to  be 
led  by  party  hatred  into  one-sided  statements  con- 
corning  this  man.  He  belonged  to  those  who 
looked  upon  Savonarola  as  a  well-known  deceiver, 
and  reported  of  him  at  Rome  in  this  light.  The 
oldest  written  document  of  Macchiavelli's  which  we 
possess  is  a  letter  respecting  the  incidents  of  those 
stormy  days.  The  most  thorough  hatred  pervades 

this   document.      Macchiavelli   was    at    that    time 

10 


218  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

scarcely  thirty  years  of  age,  and  had  just  entered 
upon  civil  employment.* 

Whence  comes  it,  however,  that  such  a  dark 
shadow  is  cast  across  the  veneration  which  this  man 
inspired  ?  Let  us  compare  him  with  'another  monk 
of  San  Marco,  who  lived  long  before  him,  and  who 
has  made  the  monastery  no  less  famous  than  he. 
The  walls  of  its  passages,  its  chapels,  even  those  of 
its  low  dark  cells,  are  covered  with  the  paintings 
of  Fiesole,  one  of  Giotto's  followers,  whose  works, 
filled  with  a  charming  purity  of  sentiment,  and  ele- 
vated by  a  kind  of  sweet,  calm  enthusiasm,  belong 
to  the  most  remarkable  and  affecting  monuments 
of  an  artist's  soul. 

His  works,  indeed,  are  scarcely  to  be  numbered. 
In  uniform  gentle  outbursts  of  fancy,  he  seems 
unceasingly  to  have  represented  his  dreams.  His 
figures  have  something  ethereal  in  them.  He  paints 
monks  falling  down  before  the  cross,  and  embracing 
it  with  trembling  fervency ;  he  paints  troops  of 
angels,  who,  crowded  together,  hover  through  the 
air,  as  if  they  were  all  one  long  outstretched  cloud, 
the  sight  of  which  fills  us  with  longing. .  There  is 
such  a  direct  connection  between  what  he  wished  to 
represent  and  what  he  succeeded  in  painting,  and 
at  the  same  time  that  which  he  wished  to  produce 
was  always  so  simple  and  intelligible,  that  his  pic- 
tures make  a  direct,  lasting  impression  upon  all ; 
and  thus  many  natures  are  capable  of  being  raised 
into  the  same  degree  of  enthusiasm  as  that  in  which 
his  paintings  seem  to  have  boon  created. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXI. 


FIESOLE.  219 

Born  in  1387,  —  a  contemporary,  therefore,  of 
Ghiberti's  and  Brunellesclii's,  —  Fiesole  cast  aside 
his  vows  when  he  was  twenty-one  years  old ;  he  died 
at  the  age  of  sixty,  in  Rome,  where  his  monument 
still  exists.  He  was  really  a  miniature  painter ;  this 
is  to  be  seen  even  in  his  great  fresco  paintings.  His 
life,  according  to  Vasari's  description,  reads  like  a 
legend  of  the  old  pious  ages.  He  was  to  have  been 
prior  of  the  convent :  he,  however,  humbly  declined 
the  dignity ;  and  his  whole  history  and  his  works 
evidence  the  feeling  that  made  him  so  modestly 
draw  back.  And  yet  his  influence  was  great,  and 
still  lasts. 

If  we  compare  the  spirit  of  these  paintings  with 
that  of  Savonarola's  sermons,  preached  by  him  in 
the  hall  of  the  monastery,  from  the  walls  of  which 
Fiesole's  works  look  down  upon  us,  we  perceive 
most  keenly  what  Fiesole  possessed,  and  what  Savo- 
narola lacked,  —  what  made  him  so  fearfully  hated 
by  his  enemies.  A  holy  zeal  for  the  Good,  the 
True,  the  Moral,  and  the  Great,  kindled  his  heart ; 
but  he  failed  to  see  that  without  beauty  the  Good  is 
not  good,  the  True  is  not  true,  the  Holy  even  is  not 
holy.  Thus  he,  the  tenderest  mind,  became  impla- 
cable, and  compelled  his  enemies  to  become  so  also ; 
and  thus  he  destroyed  himself.  He  forgot  that  that 
which  subdues  and  forms  men  most  is  not  conscious 
obedience,  the  inclination  to  evil  repressed  by  force, 
—  that  it  is  not  the  violent  self-guiding  persistency 
in  one  rigid  line  of  conduct  which  is  to  lead  to  God  ; 
but  that  the  unconscious  reception  of  a  kindly  ex- 
ample, gentle  compliance  with  what  the  Good  and 


220  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  Beautiful  alluringly  offer,  and  that  habitual 
turning  to  the  Divine,  as  a  butterfly  to  the  sunlight, 
are  the  true  powers  which  lead  men  mysteriously 
but  surely  on.  And  thus  Fiesole's  soft,  silent  pic- 
tures have  done  more  than  Savonarola's  thunderings, 
the  sound  of  which  has  passed  away,  leaving  scarcely 
a  trace  behind. 

Hardly  was  Savonarola  dead,  than  a  halo  of  glory 
surrounded  his  form ;  the  incidents  of  his  last  days 
were  borne  from  lip  to  lip  as  the  glorious  sufferings 
of  a  martyr,  and  intermingled  with  stories  of  mira- 
cles. It  was  told  how  his  heart  had  not  been 
burnt,  but  was  thrown  up  again  from  the  depths  of 
the  Arno,  and  was  picked  up  undestroyed  by  his 
admirers.  His  yielding  in  the  torments  of  torture 
was  compared  with  the  example  of  the  apostle  Peter, 
who,  under  less  pressing  circumstances,  had  denied 
his  Lord.  On  the  other  hand,  the  miserable  death 
of  the  King  of  France,  who  was  snatched  away  after 
his  child  had  preceded  him,  appeared  as  the  direct 
punishment  of  Heaven,  which  Savonarola  had  fore- 
told. His  picture,  with  a  crown  of  glory  round  his 
head,  was  exposed  for  sale  in  the  streets  of  Rome 
itself. 

It  is  impossible  to  avoid  the  thought,  that  his  suf- 
ferings and  death  were  not  without  their  influence 
upon  the  creative  mind  of  the  painter. 

Michael  Angelo  completed  the  Pieta  in  the  year 
1499,  or  in  the  succeeding  one,  and  returned  to 
Florence. 


LOUTS   XII..   KING   OP   FRANCE.  221 


CHAPTER  FIFTH. 

1498  —  1504. 

Louis  XII.,  King  of  France  —  Position  of  the  Florentines  in  Italy 

—  The  Madonna  at  Bruges  —  The  Madonna  in  the  Tribune  at 
Florence  —  Caesar  Borgia  before  Florence  —  The  David  at  the 
Gate  of  the  Palace  of  the  Government  —  The  Twelve  Apostles 

—  The  Copy  of  the  David  of  Donatello  —  The  Erection  of  the 
David  —  Leonardo   da   Vinci  —  Perugino  —  Michael    Angelo's 
Adversaries  —  Death  of  Alexander  Borgia  —  Leonardo's  Car- 
toon of  the  Battle  of  the  Cavalry  —  Leonardo  contrasted  with 
Michael  Angelo  —  Cartoon  of  the  Bathing  Soldier  —  Raphael 
in  Florence. 


death  of  the  King  of  France  had  been  favor- 
-*-  able  for  Florence.  His  successor,  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  who  ascended  the  throne  as  Louis  XII., 
possessed  the  mental  capabilities  which  Charles  VIII. 
had  been  devoid  of.  There  was  an  end  to  the 
dilettante  struggling  for  fame  and  empire.  Louis, 
when  he  came  to  the  throne,  was  a  matured  man, 
whose  long-cherished  plans  were  now  to  be  system- 
atically carried  out.  His  thoughts  had  long  ago 
been  much  turned  to  Italy.  His  grandmother  had 
been  a  Visconti.  Upon  this  he  urged  his  claims  to 
Milan  ;  and  at  the  same  time  he  prepared  to  renew 
with  fresh  vigor  the  war  with  Naples. 

The  fidelity  of  the  Florentines  to  France  was  now 
rewarded.     Two  enemies  threatened  the  city,  —  the 


222  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL  ANGFLO. 

Medici,  and  Caesar  Borgia,  who  could  not  do  with- 
out Florence  for  the  central  Italian  kingdom,  which 
he  was  on  the  point  of  founding  for  himself.  Medici 
and  Borgia  both  stood  on  excellent  terms  with 
France,  and  hoped  for  the  help  of  the  king,  who 
held  out  to  them  just  as  many  hopes  as  were  neces- 
sary to  chain  them  to  his  policy,  but  allowed  neither 
of  them  seriously  to  attack  the  Florentines.  For 
the  French  tendencies  of  the  free  citizens  appeared 
justly  to  the  king  a  surer  pledge  for  the  adherence 
of  the  city,  than  the  gratitude  of  either  Piero  or 
Caesar,  which  he  knew  by  experience. 

Matters  were  therefore  prosperous  in  Florence. 
She  had  joined  with  Venice.  Pisa  was  supported 
no  further;  and  Louis  even  sent  auxiliary  troops. 
Among  the  citizens,  too,  a  change  for  the  better  had 
taken  place.  The  Piagnoni  at  first  fared  but  badly, 
and  the  poor  friars  of  San  Marco  worst  of  all.  Peti- 
tions to  the  pope,  of  the  most  abject  submission,  were 
required  to  effect  a  pardon.  Their  bell,  called  the 
Piagnona,  was  legally  condemned  as  a  malefactor, 
and  was  taken  from  the  monastery ;  and  the  unfortu- 
nate Cronaca  was  charged  with  the  execution  of  the 
sentence.  Thus  the  adherents  of  the  ruined  prophet 
were  not  spared,  but  were  made-  active  against 
themselves.  The  Arrabiati  fumigated  the  polluted 
churches  with  brimstone  ;  they  chased  a  horse 
through  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  and  killed  it  at  the 
entrance.  The  Piagnoni  themselves — depressed,  at 
variance,  and  full  of  dread  —  scarcely  ventured  to 
show  themselves  in  the  streets,  where  the  old  luxury 
of  splendid  attire  again  appeared  triumphant. 


POSITION   OF  THE   FLORENTINES  IN   ITALY.         223 

Yet  scorned  as  they  were  at  first,  and  annihilated 
as  a  political  party  by  the  death  and  exile  of  their 
heads,  the  books  were  soon  given  back  to  those  who 
had  been  obliged  to  deliver  up  the  writings  of 
Savonarola.  The  Siguiory  justified  the  execution 
to  the  King  of  France,  and  threw  the  blame  from 
themselves.  The  dissolution  which  befel  the  Piag- 
noni  sundered  the  bond  which  united  the  Arrabiati 
against  them.  The  parties  fell  immediately  into 
other  combinations  :  it  was  important  to  oppose  the 
Palleski,  and  to  prevent  their  obtaining  the  upper 
hand.  Savonarola's  consiglio  grande  was  con- 
tinued. 

For  the  moment,  the  Medici  ventured  nothing 
against  the  freedom  of  the  Florentines  ;  but  the 
latter  had  still  to  conquer  Pisa,  and  to  keep  on  good 
terms  with  France.  To  this  end  they  directed  their 
policy  to  the  utmost.  The  circumstances  were  of  a 
difficult  nature  ;  dark  clouds  often  hung  heavily  and 
threateningly  over  the  city.  Gold,  good  fortune, 
and  dexterity,  however,  carried  the  lightning-strokes 
harmlessly  aside ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  the  warlike 
commotions  which  filled  the  whole  of  Italy  close  to 
their  own  walls,  there  prevailed  the  old  inevitable 
pursuit  after  wealth,  honor,  and  enjoyment. 

As  Michael  Angelo's  first  work,  after  his  return 
from  Rome,  I  must  mention  a  Madonna,  which  ap- 
pears as  a  kind  of  echo  of  his  Roman  Pieta,  and 
which  at  that  time  he  was  alone  able  to  complete. 
For  that  he  repaired  from  Rome  to  Florence,  on 
account  of  the  David,  his  next  immense  work,  is  an 
invention  of  Vasari's,  to  whom  Condivi's  simple 


224  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

statement,  that  he  returned  on  account  of  his 
domestic  affairs,  was  not  sufficiently  piquant.  We 
must  again  and  again  repeat,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
Vasari  to  relate  facts  simply  one  after  another :  he 
endeavors  to  connect  them  in  an  interesting  manner. 
He  has  by  this  means  succeeded,  indeed,  in  giving 
the  appearance  of  living  truth  to  his  biography  ; 
but,  unfortunately,  it  is  too  often  to  be  proved,  that 
things  are  the  work  of  his  fancy  alone. 

With  regard,  however,  to  the  Madonna  of  which 
we  are  now  speaking,  I  differ  even  from  Condivi. 
Fifty  years,  when  he  wrote,  had  elapsed  since 
Michael  Angelo  had  last  seen  the  Madonna.  Either 
the  latter  was  himself  in  error  respecting  it,  or 
Condivi  had  falsely  understood  him.  He  writes  of 
a  cast  in  bronze,  representing  a  Madonna,  and  of  the 
Moscheroni,  Flemish  merchants,  who  purchased  it 
for  a  hundred  ducats,  and  sent  it  to  their  own  coun- 
try. This  Madonna,  however,  is  not  bronze,  but 
marble ;  it  is  in  the  Church  of  Notre  Dame  at 
Bruges  ;  and  what  makes  the  tradition  indubitable 
as  to  its  being  a  work  of  Michael  Angelo's  is,  besides 
its  whole  appearance,  the  fact,  that,  under  the  altar 
on  which  it  stands,  Pierre  Moscron  —  one  of  the 
Moscheroni,  therefore,  whom  Condivi  mentions  — 
lies  buried.  He  had  built  the  chapel  at  his  own 
expense,  and  had  placed  the  Madonna  over  the  altar. 
He  was,  as  his  epitaph  bears  witness,  Licentie  es  droit 
and  greffier  of  the  city;  and  he  died  in  1571.  Until 
this  year,  therefore,  Michael  Angelo's  work  seems  to 
have  remained  in  the  house  of  the  Moscron  family.* 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXL* 


THE   MADONNA    AT   BRUGES.  225 

Vasari's  frivolous  method  is  shown,  moreover, 
most  plainly  on  this  occasion.  We  know  for  certain 
that  he  never  saw  the  Madonna,  and  that  Condivi 
was  his  only  source.  In  the  first  place,  from  his 
own  opinion,  he  makes  the  work  a  round  bas-relief; 
and  he  says,  in  the  second  place,  that  Michael 
Angelo  executed  it  by  order  of  the  Moscheroni.  He 
was  induced,  perhaps,  to  make  the  first  alteration 
by  the  natural  consideration,  that  a  hundred  scudi 
would  have  been  too  small  a  price  for  a  detached 
bronze  statue  ;  but  he  tells  a  falsehood  as  to  its  hav- 
ing been  ordered,  only  because  it  sounds  better  than 
Condivi's  simple  words,  that  Michael  Angelo  had 
executed  the  statue,  and  the  Moscheroni  had  pur- 
chased it. 

This  Madonna  is  one  of  Michael  Angelo's  finest 
works.  It  is  life-size.  She  sits  there  enveloped  in 
the  softest  drapery  ;  the  child  stands  between  her 
knees,  leaning  on  the  left  one,  the  foot  of  which 
rests  on  a  block  of  stone,  so  that  it  is  raised  a  little 
higher  than  the  right.  On  this  stone  the  child  also 
stands,  and  seems  about  to  step  down.  His  mother 
holds  him  back  with  her  left  hand,  while  the  right 
rests  on  her  lap  with  a  book.  She  is  looking  straight 
'forward ;  a  handkerchief  is  placed  across  her  hair, 
and  falls  softly,  on  both  sides,  on  her  neck  and 
shoulders.  In  her  countenance,  in  her  look,  there 
is  a  wonderful  majesty,  a  queenly  gravity,  as  if  she 
felt  the  thousand  pious  glances  of  the  people  who 
look  up  to  her  on  the  altar.  If  we  wished,  as  is  the 
custom,  to  surname  her  from  some  distinctive  mark, 
we  might  do  so  from  the  tightened  folds  of  her  gar- 

10*  o 


226  LIFE    OF    MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

ment,  which  is  drawn  down  sideways  from  the  point 
of  the  left  knee,  by  the  child  stepping  on  it.  The 
child,  however,  throughout  resembles  the  little  John 
in  the  picture  in  Mr.  Labouchere's  collection.  The 
similarity  appears  so  striking,  that  the  affinity  of  the 
two  works,  like  a  double  blossom,  springing  from 
the  same  idea,  is  scarcely  to  be  disclaimed. 

As  a  second  work  belonging  to  this  period,  we 
may  place  the  picture  which  Michael  Angelo  painted 
for  Messer  Agnolo  Doni,  an  almost  miniature-like 
painting,  yet  belonging  to  the  early  period  of  his 
artistic  career.  Condivi's  chronology  respecting  this, 
also,  is  of  such  a  general  nature  that  it  scarcely 
stands  in  the  way  of  my  supposition.  It  is  to  be  seen 
in  the  present  day  in  the  Tribune  at  Florence.  The 
Virgin  is  kneeling  towards  the  spectator,  with  both 
knees  on  the  ground ;  and,  turning  backwards,  re- 
ceives in  her  arms  the  child,  which  Joseph  reaches 
to  her  from  behind,  over  her  right  shoulder.  The 
figures  are  about  half  the  size  of  life.  John  is  com- 
ing forward;  he  is  small,  and  without  connection 
with  the  principal  group :  the  background  is  filled 
with  a  number  of  naked  male  figures,  which,  in 
different  positions,  standing  or  sitting  in  a  semi- 
circle, have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the  Holy 
Family  in  the  foreground.  They  are  far  off  and 
small,  but  are  painted  with  great  care,  and  are 
excellently  designed.  The  grouping  of  the  Holy 
Family  itself  appears  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  arti- 
ficial and  unnatural.  The  colors  are  laid  on  with 
the  greatest  care  imaginable  ;  but  the  coloring  has 
nothing  in  it  fresh  and  florid.  The  picture  alto- 


THE  MADONNA  IN  THE  TRIBUNE  AT  FLORENCE.        227 

gether  is  rather  a  work  which  we  study  with  admi- 
ration, than  one  which  irresistibly  attracts  and 
fascinates  us.  Agnolo  Doni  paid  seventy  ducats  for 
it.  Condivi's  statement  of  this  sum  refutes  the 
anecdote  which  Vasari  relates  on  this  occasion, 
according  to  which  Michael  Angelo  must  have 
received  a  hundred  and  twenty  ducats  from  Doni. 
This  is  the  same  Doni  whose  portrait,  together 
with  that  of  his  wife,  was  subsequently  painted  by 
Raphael,  who  was  well  received  in  his  house, — 
faces  which  would  have  little  in  them  to  awaken  the 
curiosity  of  the  world,  had  they  not  been  snatched 
from  oblivion  by  the  hand  of  such  a  man. 

While  Michael  Angelo  was  engaged  with  these 
works,  the  Florentines  were  overwhelmed,  in  the 
year  1501,  by  a  sudden  calamity,  which  might  have 
annihilated  at  one  blow  all  the  advantages  gained  in 
having  surmounted  their  late  difficulties.  Caesar 
Borgia  had  been  victorious  in  the  Romagna,  and 
intended  turning  against  Bologna.  The  Bentivogli, 
however,  purchased  the  protection  of  France ;  and 
the  king  ordered  the  duke  to  withdraw  from  his 
plan.  Instead  of  this,  Caesar  now  prepared  to  set 
out  for  the  conquest  of  Piombino ;  and,  to  do  this, 
it  was  necessary  to  march  straight  through  Tuscany 
and  the  territory  of  Florence.  He  negotiated  re- 
specting it  in  the  most  friendly  manner ;  for  the 
Florentines  kept  the  passes  of  the  Apennines  occu- 
pied, and  might  refuse  him  entrance.  Scarcely, 
however,  had  he  obtained  what  he  desired,  than  he 
assumed  another  aspect ;  and,  laying  the  land  under 
contribution,  he  descended  into  the  level  country 


228  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Ho  was  now  suddenly  joined  by.  the  Medici,  who, 
with  their  friends  in  Florence,  deemed  this  as  the 
most  favorable  moment.  Preconcerted  measures 
had  been  taken  with  the  Palleski  in  Florence ;  and 
the  surprise  of  the  city,  the  convoking  of  a  parlia- 
ment, and  the  overthrow  of  the  constitution,  were 
the  three  steps  which  they  hoped  speedily  to  obtain. 
And  as  the  Medici  always  endeavored  to  hit  the 
right  moment,  by  choosing  a  time  when  the  common 
people  were  excited,  they  now  appeared  during  a 
fearful  dearth,  when  the  fruits  in  the  field  were  dried 
up,  and  a  bad  harvest  and  scarcity  were  to  be  ex- 
pected. 

Caesar  demanded  that  the  proscription  of  the 
Medici  should  be  withdrawn.  He  stood  there  so 
threateningly,  that  the  Government  hesitated  what 
answer  to  give.  The  Medici  had  only  put  forward 
a  humble  request,  that  residence  in  their  paternal 
city  should  again  be  allowed  them ;  they  possessed 
friends  in  all  circles  of  the  citizens,  who  supported 
their  petition.  Uneasiness  seized  the  people :  they 
could  not  understand  that  the  answer  to  be  given  to 
Caesar  should  even  be  taken  into  deliberation.  The 
houses  were  placed  in  a  state  of  defence,  and  arms 
were  in  readiness.  One  day,  one  of  the  members  of 
the  Government  came  angrily  out  of  the  gate  of  the 
palace.  They  asked  him  in  the  square  below  what 
was  the  matter.  He  would  not  be  present,  he 
answered,  when  they  were  negotiating  up  there 
whether  they  should  betray  their  country.  These 
words  spread  through  the  city.  They  knew  that 
near  relations  of  the  Medici  sat  among  the  Signiory. 


CAESAR   BORGIA   BEFORE   FLORENCE.  229 

The  state  of  feeling  became  so  dangerous  that 
Caesar's  proposal  was  rejected.  But  they  told  him, 
in  reply,  that  they  would  treat  with  him  as  to  the 
sum  for  which,  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Floren- 
tine troops,  he  would  henceforth  remain  the  friend 
of  the  citizens.  In  other  words,  they  would  buy 
themselves  off. 

Caesar,  who  had  not  been  quite  serious  as  to  the 
restitution  of  the  Medici,  consented  to  this.  Per- 
haps he  had  only  threatened  them  with  their  old 
foes,  that  he  might  draw  from  these  the  sums  with 
which  they  must  infallibly  have  paid  for  his  assist- 
ance, besides  the  more  favorable  conditions  which  in 
that  case  might  be  demanded  from  the  city.  They 
agreed  to  thirty-six  thousand  florins ;  for  this  he 
appeared  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  Florentine 
troops,  nominally  in  the  service  of  the  city,  and 
marched  on  to  Piombino,  which  he  took  in  the  begin- 
ning of  September. 

Piero  had  nothing  left  but  the  hope  of  better 
times.  It  is  strange  how  the  failure  of  this  coup, 
also,  was  brought  about  by  the  pride  and  arrogance 
of  his  character,  although  indirectly.  At  the  time 
when  he  was  firmly  established  in  Florence,  and 
Alexander  Borgia  was  archbishop  of  Pampeluna, 
Caesar, .  whose  future  was  not  at  that  period  very 
promising,  was  studying  canon  law  at  the  University 
of  Pisa.  In  the  cause  of  a  friend  who  had  become 
involved  in  a  difficult  lawsuit,  he  came  over  to  Flor- 
ence, and  asked  to  be  admitted  to  the  presence  of 
Piero.  He  was  allowed  to  wait  some  hours,  and  at 
length  to  go  away ;  so  that  he  returned  to  Pisa  with- 


230  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

out  having  obtained  his  object.  He  is  said  never  to 
have  forgiven  Piero  this. 

At  the  time  that  Caesar  left  the  Florentine  ter- 
ritory and  invaded  that  of  Piombino,  the  order  for 
the  David  of  Michael  Angelo  may  be  dated. 

Many  years  before,  a  marble  block,  eighteen  feet 
high,  had  been  conveyed  from  Carrara  to  Florence ; 
and  the  consuls  of  the  wool-weavers'  guild,  to  whom 
the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  belonged,  in- 
tended to  have  a  prophet  executed  out  of  it,  as  one 
of  the  figures  designed  to  surround  the  outside  of 
the  dome  of  the  church.  This  order  was  subse- 
quently withdrawn;  the  stone,  however,  had  been 
already  embossed  or  prepared  for  the  first  design, 
and  was  not  to  be  applied  to  any  other  figure.  They 
had  once  offered  it  in  vain  to  Donatello :  no  sculptor 
considered  himself  able  to  make  any  thing  out  of  it ; 
and  thus  it  had  lain,  ever  since  the  memory  of  man, 
in  the  courtyard  of  the  workshops  belonging  to  the 
cathedral  building. 

Now,  however,  it  was  announced  that  some  one 
wished  to  attempt  it.  Among  the  number  of  those 
who  had  studied  in  the  gardens  of  the  Medici,  there 
was  a  sculptor  who  had  been  sent  by  Lorenzo  to  the 
King  of  Portugal ;  and,  after  he  had  completed  some 
magnificent  buildings  and  sculptures  there,  he  had 
again  returned  to  Florence  about  the  year  1500. 
Andrea  Contucci  del  Monte  Sansovino  —  thus  the 
man  was  called  —  begged  that  the  marble  should  be 
given  up  to  him.  But  the  consuls,  before  they 
acceded  to  this  demand,  wished  first  to  hear  Michael 
Angelo's  opinion,  whether  he  could  not,  perhaps, 


THE    DAVID.  231 

himself  produce  something  good  out  of  the  mar- 
ble. 

Michael  Angelo  had  just  undertaken  another  work. 
Cardinal  Piccolomini,  whose  family  came  from  Siena, 
wished  to  decorate  a  funeral  vault  in  the  cathedral 
there  with  works  of  sculpture,  and  ordered  Michael 
Angelo  to  execute  fifteen  marble  statues  of  a  small 
size.  The  contract,  a  very  interesting  record,  con- 
taining the  most  accurate  and  minute  statements,* 
was  signed  by  him  on  the  19th  June,  1501.  Jacopo 
Galli,  his  Roman  friend,  pledged  the  eventual  resti- 
tution of  the  money  paid  in  advance,  in  case  the 
time  of  completion  was  not  adhered  to,  or  the  quality 
of  the  statues  did  not  appear  to  correspond  with  the 
agreement.  But  Michael  Angelo,  when  he  saw  the 
immense  and  magnificent  block,  and  considered 
the  fame  which  he  might  acquire  in  Florence  by  a 
work  of  this  extent,  left  the  fifteen  statues  for  Siena, 
subjected  the  marble  to  a  careful  examination,  and 
undertook  the  work.  Sansovino  had  only  wished  to 
set  about  it  on  condition  that  he  might  complete  the 
block  by  joining  to  it  other  pieces  of  marble. 
Michael  Angelo,  however,  declared  that  he  would 
execute  it  without  any  addition.  This,  perhaps, 
decided  the  matter.  On  tho  16th  August,  1501,  the 
order  was  issued. 

Two  years  were  allowed  him  for  its  completion, 
dating  from  the  1st  September  ;  and,  t$o  long  as  he 
worked,  he  was  to  receive  monthly  six  gold  florins. 
What  was  subsequently  to  be  paid  on  its  completion 
was  to  be  left  to  the  opinion  and  conscience  of  thoso 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXII. 


232  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

who  had  ordered  it.  On  the  13th  September,  early 
in  the  morning,  —  it  was  on  a  Monday,  —  he  began 
upon  the  stone.*  The  only  preparation  for  his  work 
was  a  little  wax  model  which  he  moulded,  and  which 
is  still  extant  in  the  Uffici.  Thus  he  chiselled  away, 
confident  in  his  own  good  eye ;  and  at  the  end  of 
February,  1503,  so  much  was  already  done,  that  he 
could  produce  the  work  as  half  completed.  He 
begged,  upon  this  occasion,  to  have  the  statement  of 
the  entire  price ;  and  they  agreed  upon  four  hundred 
gold  florins. 

While  Michael  Angelo  was  thus  absorbed  in  his 
work,  —  for  he  did  not  consign  the  stone,  as  is  the 
case  in  the  present  day,  to  other  hands  until  the  final 
finish ;  but  from  the  first  touch  to  the  last  he  did  the 
whole  by  himself,  —  a  new  attempt  was  made  by 
the  Medici,  in  the  year  1502,  to  establish  themselves 
as  masters  of  the  city.  This  time  they  advanced 
further;  they  had  better  allies  and  greater  means. 
The  Petrucci,  the  ruling  family  in  Siena,  the  Bag- 
lioni  of  Perugia,  .the  Yitelli,  and  the  Orsini,  stood  on 
their  side.  They  had  already  taken  Arezzo  and 
Cortona,  two  Florentine  cities ;  and  the  pope,  with 
Caesar  Borgia,  seemed  to  place  no  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  their  advance.  In  this  distress,  the  republic 
applied  to  France ;  and  their  representations  of  the 
importance  of  their  own  independent  existence  so 
convinced  the  king,  that,  at  his  threatening  command, 
they  received  the  lost  cities  back  again.  This  new 
debt  of  gratitude  to  France,  however,  resulted  in  a 
new  work  for  Michael  Angelo. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXIII. 


THE   DAVID    OF   DONATELLO.  233 

Among  the  means  used  to  obtain  influence  at  the 
court  of  the  king,  there  were  not  only  enticing  sums 
of  money,  but  also  works  of  art  which  they  applied 
as  gifts.  In  the  year  1501,  the  two  Florentine  am- 
bassadors at  the  court  of  the  king  had  written  from 
Lyons,  that  the  Duke  of  Nemours  wished  to  possess 
a  bronze  copy  of  the  David,  executed  by  Donatello, 
which  stood  in  the  court  of  the  palace  of  the  Govern- 
ment: the  noble,  it  is  true,  would  refund  the 
expense ;  but  he  seemed  by  no  means  disinclined 
to  receive  the  work  as  a  gift.  The  duke  had  besides, 
in  1499,  obtained  a  number  of  bronze  and  marble 
busts  as  a  gift  from  the  city,  among  them  one 
representing  the  Emperor  Charlemagne. 

On  the  2d  July,  this  letter,  dated  the  22d  June, 
was  replied  to  by  the  Signiory,  to  the  effect  that  for 
the  present  there  was  a  lack  of  good  masters  in  the 
city,  who  were  able  to  execute  such  a  cast,  but  that 
they  would  at  all  events  keep  the  thing  in  view. 
There  the  matter  rested.  Now,  however,  when  in 
the  summer  of  1502  the  danger  from  the  Medici 
approached,  and  more  depended  than  ever  on  the 
good-will  of  France,  a  good  master  for  this  cast  was 
at  once  found.  Michael  Angelo  undertook  it  on 
the  2d  of  August  of  the  same  year,  just  as  the 
French  were  entering  Arezzo  on  behalf  of  the  Flor- 
entines. 

The  statue  was  to  be  five  feet  high,*  and  was  to 
be  completed  in  six  months  The  Government  gave 
the  metal.  Fifty  florins  were  paid  on  account ;  the 
final  price,  as  usual,  was  to  be  decided  after  tli6 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXIV. 


234  LIFE    OF   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

completion  of  the  whole.  NeA-ertheless,  even  after 
this  contract,  the  desire  of  the  Duke  of  Nemours 
for  the  David  was  not  realized.  The  ambassadors 
reminded,  the  Signiory  excused  themselves  ;  at  last 
the  statue  was  definitely  promised  by  midsummer, 
1503,  provided  the  master,  Michael  Angelo,  kept  his 
word ;  but  it  was  certainly  "  the  way  with  such 
people,"  not  to  set  much  value  upon  promises. 
This  proviso  proved  well  grounded.  The  duke  ob- 
tained nothing;  he  fell  into  disgrace  with  the  king; 
and  when,  years  after,  the  work  was  at  length  com- 
pleted, it  was  presented  to  another  high  noble  at  the 
French  court.  At  the  present  day,  nothing  is  known 
of  it.  Just  as  little  is  known  of  a  second  bronze 
work,  which  Michael  Angelo  completed  at  the  same 
time  for  Piero  Soderini,  the  gonfalonier  of  the  city, 
and  which  also  went  to  France.  Condivi  does  not 
even  say  what  it  represented. 

More  important  was  the  order  for  the  twelve 
apostles,  each  eight  feet  and  a  half  high,  respecting 
which  the  same  consuls  of  the  wool-weavers'  guild, 
for  whom  Michael  Angelo  had  executed  the  David, 
concluded  a  contract  with  him  in  the  spring  of  1503, 
just  one  year  after  the  completion  of  the  David. 
People  knew  him  now  in  some  measure ;  and  they 
devised  an  ingenious  means  for  making  him  to 
be  depended  on.  Every  year  one  apostle  was  to  be 
produced :  Michael  Angelo  was  to  go  to  Carrara, 
and  choose  the  blocks  at  the  expense  of  those  who 
had  given  the  order.  The  price  was  to  be  submitted 
to  an  arbitration.  On  the  other  hand,  with  every 
completed  statue,  Michael  Angelo  was  to  receive  a 


THE  PLACING  OF  THE  DAVID.         235 

twelfth  part  of  the  property  in  a  house,  which  the 
church-directors,  at  the  commencement  of  his  work, 
were  having  built  into  an  atelier  expressly  for  him, 
so  that,  with  the  completion  of  the  last  apostle,  it 
was  to  fall  entirely  into  his  possession.  This  was 
certainly  enticing ;  yet,  in  spite  of  this,  nothing 
was  accomplished  but  the  coarsest  sketch  of  the 
apostle  Matthias,  which  stands  at  the  present  day 
in  the  court  of  the  academy  of  Florence. 

Michael  Angelo  wished  to  complete  his  David. 
In  this  he  kept  his  word.  It  is  true  he  did  not 
complete  it,  as  Condivi  says,  in  eighteen  months, 
nor  even  in  the  stipulated  two  years,  —  the  work 
lasted  some  months  longer ;  but  when  we  consider 
the  disorders  of  the  time,  and  the  intermediate 
orders  which  he  could  not  avoid,  this  interval  ap- 
pears small  enough.  He  worked  so  industriously 
that  he  often  slept  at  night  with  his  clothes  on,  as 
he  lay  down  from  his  work,  that  he  might  go  on 
with  it  again  at  once  on  the  following  day.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  year  1504,  the  statue  was  com- 
pleted. On  the  25th  January,  the  consuls  of  the 
wool-weavers'  guild  called  together  a  meeting  of 
the  first  Florentine  artists.  The  David  of  Mich- 
ael Angelo  was  as  good  as  finished ;  it  was  to  be 
taken  into  consideration  where  it  would  be  best 
placed. 

The  record  with  its  signatures  still  exists,  giving 
the  tenor  of  the  opinions  brought  forward ;  and  it  is 
important  as  affording  information  of  importance 
with  regard  to  the  personal  position  of  the  artists  to 
be  found  in  Florence  in  the  year  1504.  It  carries 


236  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

us  into  the  excitement  of  the  day  on  which  Michael 
Angelo  exposed  his  work  for  the  first  time  to  the 
eyes  of  the  masters.  The  men  met  together  in 
the  atelier  in  view  of  the  statue.  Michael  Angelo 
had  latterly  placed  boards  round  his  work,  and  had 
allowed  admittance  to  none ;  now,  however,  the 
youthful  giant  stood  unveiled  before  the  eyes  of  all, 
challenging  praise  or  blame  from  those  who  were 
the  most  qualified  in  the  whole  city  to  give  a 
verdict. 

Messer  Francesco,  first  herald  of  the  Signiory, 
opened  the  council.  "  I  have  reflected  on  the  mat- 
ter again  and  again,  and  well  weighed  it  in  my 
mind,"  he  began.  "  You  have  two  places  where  the 
statue  can  stand,  —  either  where  the  Judith  now 
stands,  or  in  the  court  of  the  palace  where  the  David 
stands."  He  was  here  interrupted  by  the  observa- 
tion, that  both  works  were  Donatello's.  The  Judith, 
a  bronze  cast,  which  is  now  placed  under  an  arch 
of  the  Loggia  dei  Lanzi,  —  a  strange  rather  than 
an  attractive  work,  —  was  removed  from  the  Medici 
palace  in  the  year  1495,  and  set  up  at  the  entrance 
to  the  palace  of  the  Government.  The  David,  with 
one  foot  treading  on  Goliath's  head,  and  holding  a 
sword  in  his  hand,  is  the  same  statue  as  that  which 
Michael  Angelo  had  to  copy  for  the  Duke  of 
Nemours.*  The  court  of  the  palace,  in  which  it 
was  at  that  time  placed,  is  narrow,  from  the  height 
and  beautiful  architecture  of  the  building ;  and  the 
light  that  falls  from  above  has  a  peculiarly  bluish 
lustre.  "As  regards  the  first  place,"  continued 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXV. 


THE   PLACING   OF  THE   DAVID.  237 

Messer  Francesco,  "  it  may  be  urged  that  the  Judith, 
as  a  bad  omen,  ill  suits  it.  For  our  insignia  are  the 
cross  and  the  lily ;  and  it  is  not  well,  that  a  woman 
should  stand  there  who  killed  a  man.  Besides,  the 
statue  was  placed  there  under  unfavorable  auspices. 
Matters  have  therefore  gone  worse  and  worse  with, 
us  since  that  time,  and  Pisa  has  been  lost.  With 
regard  to  the  David,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  court 
of  the  palace,  it  is  imperfect ;  for,  looked  at  from 
behind,  its  one  leg  presents  an  ugly  appearance. 
My  advice  is,  therefore,  to  give  the  giant  one  of 
these  two  places,  but  by  preference  that  where  the 
Judith  stands." 

How  strange  sounds  the  political  superstition  of 
the  man  !  This  was  the  nature  of  the  soil  on  which 
Savonarola  believed  he  had  found  firm  footing.  A 
confused  mass  of  such  ideas  floated  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  those  days,  and  high  and  low  were  en- 
tangled in  its  web. 

The  architect  Monciatto  was  the  second  to  offer 
his  opinion.  "  I  think,"  he  said,  "  that  every  thing 
has  its  object,  and  is  made  for  it.  As,  therefore,  this 
statue  has  been  made  to  have  a  place  on  one  of  the 
pilasters  outside  the  church,  or  on  one  of  the  pillars 
within,  I  see  no  ground  for  not  placing  it  there  now. 
It  seems  to  me,  that  it  would  be  an  honorable  orna 
ment  to  the  church ;  and,  standing  there,  would  be, 
moreover,  in  a  place  of  constant  resort.*  However, 
as  you  have  once  departed  from  the  first  opinion,  I 
say  it  might  be  placed  either  in  the  palace,  or  in  the 
interior  of  the  church.  As  I  am  not  sure  where  it 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXVI 


238  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANCIELO. 

would  stand  best,  I  will  adhere  to  what  the  others 
say:  the  time  is  too  short  to  think  of  a  better 
place." 

Next  to  him  spoke  Cosimo  Roselli,  one  of  the 
older  masters,  who  appears  somewhat  stiff  and 
wooden  in  his  figures.  He  expressed  himself  as 
much  perplexed  as  his  predecessor.  He  agreed  with 
both  gentlemen.  The  statue  would  stand  well  in 
the  interior  of  the  palace ;  otherwise  his  opinion 
would  have  been,  that  it  ought  to  be  placed  on  a 
highly  decorated  platform,  on  the  steps  to  the  right 
in  front  of  the  church.  He  would  have  removed  it 
there,  if  he  had  had  to  decide. 

Sandro  Botticelli  declared,  upon  this,  that  Roselli 
had  just  hit  upon  the  place  of  which  he  also  had 
thought.  All  passers-by  would  see  the  David  best 
there.  To  match  it,  on  the  other  side,  a  Judith 
might  be  placed.  Yet  he  thought  a  good  place  for 
it  would  be  under  the  Loggia  by  the  side  of  the 
palace  of  the  Government. 

Giuliano  di  San  Gallo  next  spoke  ;  he  was  one  ol 
the  most  famous  architects  and  engineers  in  Italy. 
He  and  his  equally  famous  brother  Antonio  were  in 
the  service  of  the  republic,  and  had  often  been  com- 
missioned with  the  erection  of  fortifications  or  city 
buildings.  He  was  in  favor  of  placing  the  statue 
under  the  middle  arch  of  the  Loggia.  The  marble 
was  tender,  and  had  been  already  injured  by  expo- 
sure ;  it  ought  to  be  under  cover.  Still  it  might  also 
be  placed  against  the  inner  wall  of  the  Loggia,  in  a 
niche  painted  black. 

This  opinion,  that  the  David  ought  to  have  a  roof 


THE   PLACING    OP   THE   DAVID.  239 

over  it,  seems  the  more  important,  because  similar 
scruples  have  of  late  been  promulgated.  San  Gallo 
at  that  time  was  not  listened  to.  For  three  cen- 
turies the  statue  stood  in  the  open  air ;  now,  how- 
ever, its  condition  has  become  so  critical,  that  the 
idea  has  been  again  suggested  of  removing  it  under 
the  Loggia.  The  Florentines,  however,  of  the 
present  day  are  against  this,  because  they  like  it  to 
remain  in  its  old  place. 

At  that  time,  on  the  25th  January,  1504,  other 
scruples  existed  respecting  the  Loggia.  The  second 
herald  of  the  Signiory  protested  at  once  against  it. 
The  Loggia  were  used  for  public  cei  emonies  :  if 
it  was  necessary  to  place  the  David  under  cover, 
it  could  be  set  up  under  the  public  arcades  leading 
to  the  palace.  There  it  would  stand  under  a  roof, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  be  in  nobody's  way.  He 
moreover  suggested  that  the  gentlemen  assembled 
might  prefer,  before  coming  to  any  decision,  to  apply 
to  the  lords  of  the  Government,  among  whom  were 
many  who  had  a  knowledge  of  such  matters. 

After  a  number  of  other  artists  had  brought 
forward  nothing  new,  we  come  upon  a  man,  who, 
although  certainly  in  this  assembly  he  did  not  dis- 
tinguish himself  by  his  words,  acquired  high  impor- 
tance a  short  time  after,  as  the  greatest  of  all  living 
artists,  rivalling  even  Michael  Angelo  himself.  This 
man  was  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

Leonardo  had  returned  to  Florence  in  the  year 
1499,  and  was  perhaps  already  there  when  Michael 
Angelo  arrived  from  Rome.  Ludovico  Sforza,  his 
master,  whom  he  had  served  for  almost  twenty  years, 


LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

fell  a  victim  to  his  own  intriguing  policy.  The 
French  took  away  his  land;  he  fled  to  Germany, 
came  back,  but  was  again  defeated,  and  recognized 
as  he  was  attempting  to  escape  in  miserable  disguise ; 
he  was  dragged  to  France,  where,  after  ten  years,  he' 
died  in  wretched  imprisonment. 

Leonardo  had  occupied  a  position  at  the  duke's 
court,  and  at  Milan,  such  as  he  could  nowhere  hope 
to  find  again.  Consulted  upon  all  artistic  under- 
takings, appointed  architect  of  the  cathedral,  founder 
of  an  academy  of  painting,  engineer  in  aqueducts 
and  military  matters  of  the  highest  importance,  he 
painted  picture  after  picture  with  increasing  fame  ; 
and  at  length  crowned  all  he  had  done  by  the  Last 
Supper,  in  the  monastery  of  Santa  Maria  delle 
Grazie,  where  this  painting  occupies  one  wall  of  the 
refectory.  It  was  customary,  in  Italian  monasteries, 
to  apply  such  a  subject  to  this  precise  place. 

At  the  present  day,  when  the  work  has  almost 
disappeared,  it  still  produces  an  irresistible  effect, 
from  the  attitude  of  the  figures,  and  the  art  with 
which  they  are  formed  into  groups.  Christ  forms 
the  centre ;  on  the  right  and  left  are  two  groups, 
of  three  figures  each.  By  this  means,  while  the 
greatest,  almost  architectural,  symmetry  prevails  in 
the  whole,  and  there  is  in  the  detail  a  freedom  by 
which  the  whole  character  is  expressed  in  the  posi- 
tion of  each  figure,  an  effect  is  produced,  which,  in 
moments  of  admiration,  forces  from  us  the  assertion 
that  it  is  the  finest  and  sublimest  composition  ever 
produced  by  an  Italian  master.  It  is  certainly  the 
earliest  work  of  that  magnificent  new  style,  in  which 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI.  241 

Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael  subsequently  painted; 
who,  nevertheless,  never  saw  this  painting,  as  neither 
of  them  was  ever  in  Milan. 

Leonardo's  favorite  work,  however,  was  the  statue 
'of  a  horseman,  representing  Francesco  Sforza,  the 
father  of  the  duke  Ludovico.  He  required  sixteen 
years  to  prepare  the  model.  In  the  year  1493,  when 
Bianca  Sforza  married  the  emperor  Maximilian, 
and  the  wedding  was  celebrated  with  splendor  in 
Milan,  it  was  exhibited  under  a  triumphal  arch. 
And  now,  on  the  conquest  of  the  city  by  the  French, 
it  had  served  as  an  aim  for  the  arrows  of  Gascon 
archers.*  The  duke  was  taken  prisoner,  the  work 
was  destroyed,  and  Leonardo  left  the  city.  His  fame 
met  with  misfortune.  For  it  was  but  an  ill  freak  of 
fate,  that  this  work,  on  which  he  had  at  last  been 
allowed  to  work  at  his  own  expense,  because  the 
duke's  money  failed,  should  now  be  so  miserably 
destroyed ;  and  that  the  Last  Supper  should  flake 
away  from  the  damp  wall  on  which  it  was  painted, 
while  far  older  paintings  have  remained  uninjured 
in  the  same  hall. 

Still  we  possess  pictures  enough  of  this  great 
master  to  prevent  us  from  considering  the  accounts 
of  the  magic  of  his  art  as  empty  exaggeration.  We 
are  ever  inclined  to  be  incredulous.  Leonardo's 
paintings,  however,  possess  such  a  charm,  that  the 
truest  description  falls  far  short  of  them.  We  should 
scarcely  consider  them  possible,  if  we  did  not  see 
them  with  our  eyes.  He  possesses  the  secret  of 
letting  us  almost  read  the  beating  of  the  heart  in 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXVTT 

VOT.    I.  11  P 


242  LIFE    OP   MICHAEL   AXOELO. 

the  coantenaiice  of  those  whom  he  represents.  Ho 
seems  to  see  nature  in  constant  holiday  brightness, 
and  never  otherwise.  Our  feelings  become  gradually 
so  deadened,  that,  perceiving  the  same  loss  among 
our  friends,  we  at  length  believe,  that  the  fresh, 
spring-like  appearance  of  nature  and  life,  which 
opened  before  us  so  long  as  we  were  children,  was 
only  the  delusion  of  happiness,  and  that  the  dimmer 
light  in  which  they  appear  to  us  subsequently,  affords 
the  more  true  view.  But  let  us  step  before  Leonardo's 
finest  works,  and  see  if  the  dreams  of  ideal  existence 
do  not  appear  natural  and  significant !  As  splinters 
of  metal  are  drawn  to  the  magnet  as  it  moves 
through  iron  filings,  and  adhere  to  it  in  a  thousand 
fine  points,  while  the  grains  of  sand  fall  powerless 
away ;  so  there  are  men,  who,  passing  through  the 
lifeless  throng  of  constant  intercourse,  carry  away 
with  them,  involuntarily,  only  the  traces  of  the 
genuine  metal  in  it,  in  this  following  their  nature 
alone,  which  absorbs  it  on  every  side.  They  are 
rare,  privileged  men  to  whom  this  is  awarded. 
Leonardo  belonged  to  these  favored  ones  of  fate. 
He  now  appeared  in  Florence,  accompanied  by 
Salaino,  a  beautiful  youth,  who  had  followed  him 
from  Milan,  from  whose  crisp,  curling  locks  (begli 
capelli  ricci  e  inanellati,  says  Vasari)  he  painted  the 
golden  hair  of  many  an  angel.  Salaino  was  his 
pupil ;  but  the  principle,  that  like  attracts  like,  ap- 
pears still  more  evidently  in  another  of  his  pupils, 
—  a  beautiful  Milanese  of  good  family,  Francesco 
Melzi  by  name,  —  whose  paintings  are  scarcely  to 
be  distinguished  from  those  of  Leonardo.  But  he 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI.  243 

painted  less,  because  he  was  rich.  Much  the  same 
may  be  said  of  Boltraffio,  another  of  his  pupils,  and 
a  Milanese  nobleman. 

When  Leonardo  came  to  Florence,  he  was  the 
first  painter  in  Italy.  Filippino  Lippi  transferred 
to  him  an  order  for  an  altar-picture  in  the  church 
of  a  monastery,  in  which  Leonardo  lodged  with  his. 
attendants  ;  but  he  was  long  before  undertaking  the 
work.  He  had  done  just  the  same  in  Milan  before 
beginning  the  Last  Supper.  For  days  he  sat  before 
his  new  work  without  moving  his  hand,  lost  in  deep 
reflection,  awaiting  the  moment  when  the  counte- 
nance of  Christ  would  be  revealed  to  him  in  the 
manner  in  which  he  desired  to  see  it  in  his  mind. 
It  was  of  no  avail  that  the  prior  of  the  monastery 
complained  to  the  duke  himself. 

At  length  he  achieved  something  in  Florence  also, 
—  a  cartoon,  —  Christ,  Mary,  and  St.  Anna.*  The 
people  of  Florence  streamed  to  the  monastery  to 
admire  this  work.  His  highest  triumph,  however, 
was  the  portrait  of  Mona  Lisa,  the  wife  of  Francesco 
del  Giocondo,  a  creation  which  surpasses  every  thing 
that  art  had  produced  in  that  direction.  Francis  I. 
purchased  it  for  France,  where  it  is  still  to  be  seen 
in  the  Louvre.  All  description  of  it  would  be  vain. 
As  the  countenance  of  the  Sistine  Madonna  repre- 
sents the  purest  maidenliness,  so  we  see  here  the 
most  beautiful  woman,  —  worldly,  earthly,  without 
sublimity,  without  enthusiasm  ;  but  with  a  calm, 
restful  placidity,  with  a  look,  a  smile,  a  mild  pride 
about  her,  which  makes  us  stand  before  her  with 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXVIIT 


244  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

endless  delight.  It  is  as  if  all  thoughts  were  at  rest 
in  her ;  as  if  love,  longing,  hatred,  every  thing  which 
can  excite  a  heart,  lay  summed  up  in  a  feeling  of 
satisfied  happiness.  Four  years  he  worked  at  it,  and 
gave  up  the  picture,  which  seemed  to  have  reached 
the  highest  stage  of  perfection,  as  unfinished.  When 
he  was  painting  it,  he  always  had  music  and  singing 
in  his  room,  or  he  invited  witty  people  to  come  and 
enliven  the  beautiful  woman,  and  to  disperse  the 
trait  of  melancholy  which  creeps  so  easily  over  a 
face  keeping  quiet  to  be  painted.  Such  a  portrait 
had  not  been  executed  so  long  as  there  had  been 
artists  in  Italy.  And  thus  the  fame  which  Leonardo 
brought  with  him  out  of  Milan,  was  increased  by 
that  which  he  now  acquired  anew  in  his  native 
city. 

Michael  Angelo  could  not  even  be  remotely  com- 
pared with  him  as  a  painter.  As  a  sculptor,  how- 
ever, he  occupied  the  first  place.  Yet  it  was  not 
possible  that  the  two  departments  should  remain 
strictly  divided,  as  each  of  them  was  at  once  a  sculp- 
tor and  painter.  There  was  the  difference,  moreover, 
of  their  age  and  nature, — Michael  not  yet  thirty, 
proud  and  conscious  of  what  he  had  done  and  would 
do ;  Leonardo  a  man  almost  fifty,  who  had  for  many 
years  occupied  the  first  place  at  the  court  of  the 
richest  prince  of  Italy,  sensitive  by  nature,  perhaps 
even  irritated  by  his  late  experiences,  and  not  in- 
clined to  share  the  field  with  another,  which  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  rule  alone. 

It  was  respecting  the  block  of  marble,  which  San- 
sovino  had  asked  for,  that  Michael  Angelo  (if  Vasari 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI.  245 

speaks  truly)  first  quarrelled  with  Leonardo,  for 
whom  the  stone  had  been  also  intended.*  It  would, 
however,  be  venturing  too  much,  if  we  were  to  sup- 
pose that  Leonardo's  absence  in  the  year  1502,  and 
the  following  one,  had  been  brought  about  by  jeal- 
ousy of  Michael  Angelo.  During  this  period  he  was 
in  Caesar  Borgia's  service  as  architect  and  engineer- 
general  of  the  Romagna.  Leonardo  thoroughly 
understood  fortification,  and  all  that  belongs  to  it; 
he  had  a  longing  for  work  which  demanded  all  his 
powers  ;  in  short,  he  was  accustomed  to  serve  a 
prince.  He  could  not  have  found  a  better  master 
than  the  duke,  whose  noble  qualities  suited  his  own. 
Leonardo,  too,  possessed  the  power  to  bend  a  horse- 
shoe like  lead.  Caasar  was  royally  generous,  and 
was  the  handsomest  man  possible.  His  distin- 
guished qualities  as  a  general  were  recognized  by 
all ;  his  army,  especially  his  infantry,  was  considered 
the  best  in  Italy.  His  future  seemed  secure.  He 
wished  to  conquer  a  kingdom ;  and  the  commence- 
ment he  had  made  allowed  great  things  to  be  ex 
pected. 

At  the  time  when  the  Medici  had  failed  with  their 
expedition  in  the  year  1502,  and  the  Florentine  ter- 
ritory had  been  declared  by  the  King  of  France  to 
be  unassailable  even  to  him,  he  had  turned  towards 
Urbino,  and  had  brought  this  dukedom  within  his 
power.  Still  he  ever  appeared  as  a  friend  of  the 
republic,  who  even  supported  him  with  troops; 
Leonardo's  service,  therefore,  was  no  treason  to  his 
native  country,  although  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that 

*  See  Appendix.  Note  XXIX. 


246  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Caesar's  designs  with  regard  to  the  city  had  not 
changed,  but  were  only  postponed. 

How  long  he  remained  with  the  duke  is  not  to  be 
accurately  stated.  In  1503,  we  find  him  in  the 
Florentine  camp  before  Pisa ;  and  in  1504,  at  last, 
again  in  the  city  itself,  where,  with  many  other  works, 
he  was  still  engaged  on  the  portrait  of  Mona  Lisa. 

At  the  meeting  he  spoke  only  a  few  words,  in 
which  he  declared  himself  of  San  Gallo's  opinion, 
that  the  statue  ought  to  be  placed  under  the  Loggia ; 
it  could  indeed  be  so  arranged,  that  public  cere- 
monies would  not  suffer  from  it.  It  seems  that  this 
opinion  was  held  by  the  majority  on  that  day ;  still  it 
was  not  adopted.  One  of  the  gentlemen,  the  gold- 
smith Salvestro,  came  forward  with  the  proposal,  that 
the  place  which  it  should  occupy  in  future  should 
be  left  to  him  who  had  executed  the  statue.  He 
would  best  know  what  place  it  suited.  Upon  this 
they  seem  at  length  to  have  settled.  Michael 
Angelo's  views,  however,  agreed  with  those  of  the 
first  herald  of  the  Signiory.  He  desired  the  place 
next  the  gate  of  the  palace ;  and  upon  this  they 
decided. 

Among  those  who  were  assembled,  I  inust  still 
name  Filippino  Lippi,  Granacci,  Pier  di  Cosimo, 
Lorenzo  da  Credi,  and,  lastly,  one  next  in  impor- 
tance to  Leonardo,  Pietro  Perugino.  He  and 
Leonardo  were  early  friends,  and  had  studied  to- 
gether with  Verrochio.*  Perugino,  now  sixty  yeart 
old,  had  won  fame  and  wealth,  and  possessed  a 
house  in  Florence,  where,  surrounded  by  pupils  and 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXX. 


THE    PLACING    OF    THE    STATUE.  247 

overwhelmed  with  orders,  he  led  the  most  active  life. 
He  had  introduced  a  new  vigorous  manner  in  the 
place  of  the  customary  nicety,  and  is  considered  as 
the  founder  of  that  branch  of  painting  in  which 
Raphael  produced  so  much  that  is  great.  He 
rounded  oif  his  figures  with  strong  shadows,  and 
brought  them  out  from  the  background  ;  instead  of 
the  ordinary  crowd  of  figures  which  generally  fill 
the  pictures  of  the  Florentine  masters,  he  produced 
well-arranged  groups,  which  appeared  less  numer- 
ous, but  more  complete.  He  was  by  nature  rough, 
more  strongly  inclined  to  the  technical  perfection 
of  his  art,  and  without  the  gift  of  endowing  his 
works  with  that  mysterious  charm  which  belongs  to 
the  productions  of  the  greatest  masters. 

If  we  take  him  again  in  connection  with  Leonardo ; 
if  we  reckon  up,  moreover,  the  pupils  and  followers 
which  adhered  to  both,  and  imagine  them  in  opposi- 
tion to  Michael  Angelo,  —  we  see  this  man  standing 
opposed  by  himself  to  a  powerful  body  of  rivals.  It 
would  not  be  allowable  to  conjecture  this,  and  to 
date  back  to  this  period  the  feelings  which  were 
excited  by  subsequent  events,  if  the  most  distinct 
intimations  did  not  lie  before  us,  to  justify  us  in  so 
doing.  For  the  David  was  not  yet  placed  ;  and  all 
the  fame  that  Michael  Angelo  gained  from  it,  and 
which  might  have  awakened  the  envy  of  others,  was 
scarcely  in  embryo,  when  the  bitterest  hatred  burst 
forth  against  him. 

The  statue  weighed  eighteen  thousand  pounds. 
Cronaca  devised  the  scaffolding  to  remove  it,  —  a 
wooden  framework,  within  which  it  was  suspended 


248  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

on  abundant  ropes.  It  thus  remained  in  a  gently 
swinging  motion,  whilst  the  whole  thing,  lying  on 
fourteen  oiled  beams,  was  slowly  drawn  along  by 
pulleys.  Forty  men  worked  at  them.  Vasari  praises 
the  peculiarly  twisted  knot  of  the  rope,  which  was 
placed  in  the  most  convenient  place,  and  grew 
tighter  and  tighter  of  itself. 

On  the  14th  May,  in  the  evening,  about  Ave 
Maria,  the  statue  was  drawn  from  the  atelier  into 
the  open  air.  The  wall  about  the  door  had  been 
obliged  to  be  broken  down  to  render  the  exit  pos- 
sible. The  figure  hung  upright,  swaying  in  the 
midst  of  the  scaffolding.  It  advanced  slowly,  and 
was  left  at  nightfall,  to  be  carried  further  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.  It  was  now  shown,  what  Giovanni 
Piffero,  one  of  the  masters  in  the  council,  had  prob- 
ably intended  when  he  had  said,  that,  if  it  stood  in 
the  Loggia,  any  one  evil  inclined  might  give  it  a 
blow  with  a  stick ;  for,  during  the  night,  stones  were 
now  thrown  at  it.  A  watch  was  ordered  to  protect 
it.  The  progress  through  the  streets  lasted  for  three 
days,  and  the  attacks  were  repeated  every  night. 
They  attacked  the  watch  ;  and  eight  of  those  who 
were  apprehended  were  thrown  into  prison.  There 
was  no  idea  of  Leonardo  or  Perugino  having  had  a 
suspicion  of  this  disgraceful  conduct ;  but  the  sup- 
position arises  too  naturally,  that  the  subsequently 
open  animosity  of  the  two  artist  factions  was  not 
without  its  influence  even  here. 

On  the  18th  May,  1504,  at  dawn  of  day,  they 
arrived  at  the  square.  The  Judith  of  Donatello  was 
moved  aside,  and  the  David  was  placed  in  its  stead. 


EEECTION   OF  THE   DAVID.  249 

Michael  Angelo  had  so  completely  used  the  whole 
block,  that  on  the  head  of  the  statue  a  little  piece 
of  the  natural  crust  of  the  rough  stone  remained 
visible.  The  David  stands  simply  there.  His  glance 
is  so  keen,  that  he  seems  as  if  he  had  an  aim  in 
view.  The  right  arm,  in  the  hand  of  which  lies  the 
sling,  falls  in  natural  repose  by  his  side.  The  left  is 
raised  in  front  of  his  chest,  as  if  he  were  going  to 
place  a  stone  in  the  sling.  There  is  otherwise  noth- 
ing unusual  in  him :  entirely  naked,  he  is  the  im- 
mense statue  of  a  youth  of  about  sixteen  years  old. 
The  erection  of  this  David  was  like  an  occurrence 
in  nature  from  which  people  are  wont  to  reckon. 
We  find  events  dated  so  many  years  after  the  erec- 
tion of  the  giant.  It  was  mentioned  in  records,  in 
which  there  was  not  a  line  besides  respecting  art. 
For  centuries  the  David  has  now  stood  at  the  gate 
of  the  dark,  powerful  palace,  and  has  passed  through 
the  various  fates  of  the  city.  Various  points  are 
found  fault  with  ;  and  he  is  either  considered  too 
immense  for  expression,  or  the  expression  too  insig- 
nificant for  the  size.  Some  think  an  almost  boyish 
youth  ought  not  to  be  represented  as  colossal. 
Works  of  this  extent,  however,  need  more  frequent 
contemplation.  The  natural  majesty  of  pure  youth- 
ful beauty  beams  forth  from  his  limbs ;  and  the 
Florentines  are  right  in  considering  the  David  as 
the  good  genius  of  their  city,  which  ought  to  remain 
where  the  master  himself  placed  it.  As  a  Floren- 
tine, I  should  not  myself  be  free  from  the  super- 
stition, that  to  move  its  position  would  be  an  evil 
omen. 


250  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

2. 

The  completion  of  the  David  concurs  in  a  man- 
ner with  the  deliverance  of  the  city  from  her  three 
most  dangerous  enemies,  so  that  its  erection  thus 
became  a  memorable  period. 

The  two  first  who  perished  .were  the  Borgias, 
father  and  son.  Caesar  Borgia,  or,  as  he  was  com- 
monly called  after  his  marriage  with  a  French  prin- 
cess, the  Duca  Valentino,  stood  at  the  climax  of  his 
power  in  the  year  1503.  The  Romagna,  Urbino, 
and  Piombino  belonged  to  him;  Ferrara  belonged 
to  the  consort  of  his  sister ;  Pisa,  Siena,  and  Flor- 
ence were  falling  into  his  snare ;  he  was  on  terms 
of  good  understanding  with  Venice ;  Naples  was  the 
last  great  capture  which  he  hoped  to  make.  He  had 
also,  in  the  autumn  of  the  year,  cast  his  eyes  upon 
Pisa,  against  which  Florence  was  fruitlessly  toil- 
ing. 

He  strengthened  his  troops,  and  gathered  more 
money  together.  Father  and  son  made  use  of  vari- 
ous means  for  this  end.  They  poisoned  the  rich, 
whom  they  could  get  at,  and  placed  themselves  in 
possession  of  their  inheritance.  The  poison  usually 
applied  for  this  purpose  by  the  highest  priest  of 
Christendom  was  a  snow-white  powder  of  great 
fineness  and  agreeable  taste,  which,  slow  in  its  opera- 
tion, effected  surely  the  end  desired.  In  other  cases, 
they  had  recourse  to  quicker  means.  The  most 
popular  of  all  was  simple  murder,  which  appeared 
necessary  when  any  one  they  had  in  view  used  pre- 
caution in  eating  and  drinking.  For  in  this  people 


DEATH   OP   ALEXANDER  BORGIA.  251 

grew  suspicious.  It  frequently  happened  that  noblo 
lords,  who  had  been  imprisoned  by  the  popes,  almost 
starved  to  death,  because  they  refused  to  touch  the 
foreign  dishes. 

The  15th  August,  1503,  was  fixed  for  one  of  these 
more  silent  executions ;  the  Cardinal  of  Corneto 
being  the  destined  victim.  The  pope  repaired, 
towards  evening,  to  his  villa,  the  Belvedere,  close  by 
the  Vatican,  where  he  liked  to  refresh  himself  after 
the  heat  of  the  day.  Some  bottles  of  poisoned  wine 
were  given  by  the  duke  to  one  of  the  servants  in 
waiting,  with  the  order  to  pour  out  for  the  cardinal 
from  them,  and  for  no  one  else. 

The  heat  was  great ;  the  pope  felt  weary  and 
thirsty ;  the  repast  was  not  yet  ready ;  even  the  pro- 
visions expected  had  not  arrived.  He  wished  to 
drink ;  only  some  bottles  of  wine  were  to  be  found ; 
no  one  knew  how  fatal  they  were,  or  those  who  knew 
did  not  choose  to  call  it  to  mind.  He  drank,  and 
Caesar,  who  happened  to  come  in,  was  also  enticed. 
The  pope  fell  down  at  once  as  dead,  and  was  carried 
dying  back  to  the  Vatican.  Three  days  after,  his 
corpse  lay  in  St.  Peter's.  Immense  rejoicing  filled 
the  city;  the  Romans  crowded  thither,  and  could 
not  satisfy  themselves  with  the  sight  of  the  man, 
who,  livid  and  bloated,  was  at  last  powerless,  and 
who  lay  destroyed  like  a  serpent  that  has  killed 
itself  with  its  own  poison. 

Caesar  recovered.  He  knew  remedies,  and  was 
provided  with  them  in  time.  His  giant  nature  over- 
came the  attack ;  but  now,  at  the  most  important, 
most  decisive  moment  of  his  career,  he  saw  himself 


252  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

sick  and  almost  incapable  of  bringing  his  power  into 
action.  That  the  pope  must  have  died,  he  had  seen 
beforehand ;  the  Spanish  cardinals  were  on  his  side ; 
he  wished  to  elect  a  pope  such  as  he  could  make  use 
of.  lie  now  bewailed  his  fate ;  he  had  calculated 
upon  all  possibilities,  that  only  excepted,  that  sick- 
ness might  fetter  his  hands. 

Cardinal  Piccolomini  was  chosen,  the  samo  for 
whom  Michael  Angelo  had  worked  in  Siena ;  an  aged 
sickly  man,  to  whom  they  had  recourse  because  they 
could  come  to  no  other  agreement.  He  ascended 
the  sacred  chair  as  Pius  III.  During  his  rule,  the 
cardinals  became  united ;  he  was  poisoned,  and,  with 
rare  unanimity,  Cardinal  Vincula  was  elected  in  his 
place.  The  Cardinals  d'Amboise  and  Ascanio  Sforza 
were  competitors.  Vincula  entered  upon  the  papal 
dignity  under  the  name  of  Julius  II.,  —  an  old  man, 
a  prey  to  passions,  and  a  victim  to  the  sickness  which 
at  that  time  affected  Europe.  We  obtain  at  a  glance 
an  insight  into  his  character,  when  we  consider  that 
he,  the  unwearied,  deadly  foe  of  the  Borgias,  suc- 
ceeded, in  spite  of  all  that  had  happened,  in  bring- 
ing Caesar  by  promises  over  to  his  side.  After  such 
a  masterpiece,  the  other  cardinals  were  easy  work. 
His  promises  exceeded  all  belief,  and  were  con- 
sidered true.  Whoever  could  be  useful  to  him  in 
any  way,  received  according  to  promise  whatever  he 
desired.  Vincula  had  been  known  all  his  life  as  a 
man  who  kept  his  word.  Even  Alexander  Borgia 
had  acknowledged  that.  He  now  turned  to  good 
account  a  reputation  won  with  such  difficulty.  Yet 
it  was  not  avarice  which  made  him  act  thus ;  for 


CAESAR   BORGIA PiERO    DEI   MEDICI.  258 

what  he  possessed  he  gave  away.     He  wished,  under 
any  circumstances,  to  be  pope. 

The  worst  he  dealt  with  was  the  duke,  who,  being 
in  possession  of  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  ruled  the 
city,  and  whose  troops  lay  threateningly  in  the  Ro- 
magna.  Csesar  received  a  promise  that  all  should 
be  preserved  to  him ;  further,  that  his  daughter 
should  be  married  to  Maria  Francesco  della  Rovere, 
the  nephew  of  the  pope  ;  lastly,  that  he  should 
remain  captain-general  of  the  pope's  army,  which 
his  father  had  constituted  him.  Julius  took  him 
into  the  Yatican ;  they  dwelt  together ;  they  con- 
certed the  future,  while  living  in  the  greatest  inti- 
macy with  each  other.  At  length  Caesar  set  out  to 
reach  his  States.  At  Ostia,  however,  the  pope's 
messengers  overtook  him  with  the  tidings  that  he 
was  to  return  with  them.  He  suspected  evil,  and 
saved  himself  from  violence  on  board  a  Spanish 
vessel,  which  brought  him  to  Naples,  where  he  was 
splendidly  received  by  Gonsalvo  di  Cordova,  the 
Spanish  viceroy.  From  thence  he  wished  to  go  into 
the  Romagna  ;  but,  just  as  he  had  got  on  board  the 
vessel,  he  was  suddenly  declared  prisoner,  and 
conveyed  to  Spain,  from  whence  he  never  again 
returned  to  Italy.  As  the  end  of  Borgia  corres- 
ponded with  his  life,  so  the  death  of  Piero  dei 
Medici  was  in  harmony  with  his.  After  that  last 
retreat  from  Tuscany,  which  had  been  so  disgraceful 
to  him,  he  had  for  a  time  given  up  Florence,  and 
had  joined  the  French  army  at  Naples.  But  here 
also  misfortune  followed.  The  Spaniards  were  be- 
gin ning  to  obtain  the  upper-hand.  On  the  28tb 


254  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

December,  there  was  a  battle  on  the  Garigliano. 
The  passage  of  the  river  was  disputed.  The  French 
were  beaten,  and  Piero  drowned. 

One  care  alone  now  remained  to  the  Florentines : 
Pisa  was  yet  to  be  conquered.  Delivered,  however, 
from  the  pressure  of  apprehension  arising  from  the 
Borgias  and  the  Medici,  they  could  now  continue 
the  war  with  the  best  hopes  for  success. 

3. 

After  Michael  Angelo  had  distinguished  himself 
in  such  a  splendid  manner,  it  was  felt,  it  seems,  in 
Florence,  that  opportunity  should  also  be  given  to 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  to  produce  something  great. 
Soderini  —  who  had  been  elected  gonfalonier  for 
life  since  the  autumn  of  1502,  because  the  city  owed 
to  him  and  to  his  brother,  the  Bishop  of  Volterra, 
the  saving  assistance  of  France  —  was  Leonardo's 
especial  friend.  It  was  well  for  Soderini  that  an 
order  of  importance  was  esteemed  a  peculiar  dis- 
tinction. He  proposed  to  cover  with  paintings  the 
empty  walls  of  the  hall  in  "which  the  cousiglio 
grande  sat.  In  the  beginning  of  February,  1504, 
a  short  time,  therefore,  after  the  discussions  respect- 
ing the  David,  Leonardo  received  the  order  to  paint 
one  great  wall  of  the  hall.  The  so-called  Hall  of 
the  Pope,  in  the  Monastery  Santa  Maria  Novella, 
was  appointed  him  for  the  preparation  of  his  car- 
toon,—  a  hall  which  in  former  times  the  popes  and 
other  royal  company  were  wont  to  occupy. 

Respecting  the  subject  of  the  picture  painted  by 
him,  we  are  not  quite  clear,  as  it  has  perished  with 


LEONARDO    AND   MICE  \2t<   ANGELO.  255 

the  cartoon,  and  the  existing  copy  accords  not 
with  the  description  which  has  reached  us  from 
Leonardo's  own  hand.  His  words  describe  a  com- 
plicated work,  with  many  groups,  united  into  a  great 
whole ;  the  copy,  on  the  contrary,  presents  only  a 
single  group,  —  a  fight  of  horsemen,  who  are  biting 
one  another  like  furies.  Men  and  horses  are  falling 
upon  each  other,  forming  a  tangled  mass,  the  central 
point  of  which  is  a  warrior  defending  his  standard. 
A  kind  of  cannibal  blood-thirstiness  fills  the  coun- 
tenances, and  the  entire  figures ;  they  are  covered 
with  strange  armor,  after  the  fashion  of  the  ancient 
Romans ;  the  bodies  are  turned  in  the  boldest  posi- 
tions ;  the  whole  is  masterly  in  its  design.  At  all 
events,  these  fighting  horsemen  formed  the  central 
point  of  the  painting.  The  copy  preserved  to  us  is 
by  Rubens  ;  it  is  engraved  A'ery  effectively  by  Ede- 
linck.  Yet  we  know  not  how  far  Rubens  may  have 
added  of  his  own,  and  how  faithfully  he  adhered  to 
the  original.  The  Florentines  must  have  stood 
startled  before  the  work.  It  was  something  per- 
fectly new.  No  one  could  have  expected,  that  the 
same  artist,  whose  softly  dreaming  fancy  had  hither- 
to produced  such  tender  pictures,  would  have  rep- 
resented, in  these  colossal  figures,  the  unchained 
passions  of  furious  soldiers. 

Michael  Angelo  spent  the  summer  of  1504  — 
in  which  Leonardo  was  engaged  in  this  task — with- 
out any  intense  wrork.  He  read  the  poets,  and 
himself  wrote,  says  Condivi.  He  had,  nevertheless, 
so  much  to  do  that  he  could  have  worked  from 
morning  till  night.  The  bronze  David  awaited  its 


256  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

completion ;  the  pedestal  for  the  David  in  front  of 
die  palace  had  yet  to  be  executed, — it  was  not  till 
September  that  all  the  work  on  it  was  finished ; 
the  twelve  apostles  for  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  were 
expected  from  him ;  and,  lastly,  the  works  for  the 
cathedral  at  Siena.  He  seems  to  have  thought  first 
of  these,  actuated,  perhaps,  by  Piccolomini's  election 
to  the  papacy.  In  October,  1504,  four  statues  were 
completed,  and  others  had  been  already  paid  in 
advance.  The  contract  was  renewed,  and  more  time 
allowed.  In  two  years,  the  remaining  eleven  were 
to  be  executed.  Should  Michael  Angelo  be  ill,  — 
so  the  document  stated,  —  the  time  lost  was  to  be 
deducted. 

This  clause  seems  to  have  arisen  from  some  special 
apprehension,  rather  than  from  general  precaution ; 
for,  although  Michael  Angelo's  constitution  was  very 
delicate  in  his  youth,  this  was  not  the  case  afterwards. 
His  frame  became  more  and  more  robust.  He  was 
thin,  but  he  possessed  strong  sinews  and  firm  limbs  ; 
he  had  broad  shoulders,  but  was  rather  to  be  called 
small  of  stature  than  tall.  Abstemiousness  in  every 
respect,  and  work,  steeled  him.  He  need  have 
wanted  for  nothing,  for  he  gained  great  sums ;  but 
he  let  the  money  lie,  or  he  supported  his  family  with 
it.  "  Rich  as  I  am,"  he  said  once  in  his  old  age  to 
Condivi,  "  I  have  always  lived  like  a  poor  man." 
In  this,  too,  he  formed  a  contrast  with  Leonardo,  who, 
conscious  of  his  beautiful  form,  needed  luxury 
around  him,  and  travelled  about  with  a  retinue. 

Fiery  eyes  and  a  magnificent  beard  gave  the  latter 
a  peculiarly  imposing  appearance.  Michael  Angelo's 


LEONARDO    AND   MICHAEL   ANGELO.  257 

head,  on  the  contrary,  was  almost  out  of  rule.  His 
forehead  projected  strongly ;  his  head  was  broad ;  the 
lower  part  of  his  face  was  smaller  than  the  upper ;  he 
had  small  light  eyes :  but  what  seriously  disfigured 
him  was  his  nose,  which  Torrigiano,  one  of  his  fellow- 
pupils,  crushed  by  a  blow  of  his  fist,  in  the  gardens 
of  the  Medici.  Michael  Angelo  is  said  to  have  pro- 
voked him ;  it  is,  however,  asserted  on  the  other  side, 
that  it  was  mere  envy.  He  was  carried  home  at  the 
time  as  dead.  Torrigiano  was  obliged  to  flee,  and 
could  not  for  many  years  return  to  Florence.  He 
was  a  coarse  man,  who  openly  boasted  of  his  deed 
(according  to  Benvenuto  Cellini),  and  subsequently 
perished  miserably. 

It  was,  perhaps,  this  disfiguring  of  his  face  which 
increased  Michael  Angelo's  natural  inclination  to 
melancholy  and  solitude,  and  made  him  bitter  and 
ironical.  He  was  in  the  utmost  degree  gentle, 
tolerant,  and  kind ;  he  had  a  natural  dread  of  giving 
pain  to  people :  but,  in  matters  of  art,  he  would  allow 
none  to  detract  from  his  good  right.  He  acknowl- 
edged the  merit  of  others  impartially ;  but  he  was 
not  inclined  to  submit  that  even  these  should  estimate 
him  below  his  actual  value.  He  possessed  a  strong 
feeling  of  self-reliance ;  wherever  if  seemed  to  him 
that  he  could  be  the  first,  it  was  not  his  fault  if  this 
remained  concealed. 

This  feeling,  perhaps,  gave  rise  to  the  motives 
which  now  made  him  resolve  to  show  what  he  could 
do  as  a  painter.  Leonardo  was  the  greatest:  he 
must  compete  with  him.  Leonardo  was  painting 
one  wall  of  the  great  hall :  he  would  paint  the  other 

Q 


258  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

We  are  not  informed  whether  his  desire,  or  the 
opinions  of  others,  gave  the  first  impetus;  but,  in 
the  autumn  of  1504,  he  received  the  order  to  furnish 
the  second  wall  of  the  hall  with  a  painting.  Soderini 
requested  him  to  do  it.  Michael  Angelo  accepted 
the  task.  This  commission  shows,  more  plainly  than 
any  thing  else,  what  an  exalted  idea  they  had  of  his 
capabilities. 

He  had  hitherto  painted  as  good  as  nothing ;  the 
two  Madonnas  were  scarcely  to  be  reckoned.  These 
pictures,  though  the  one  was  nearly  finished,  must, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  have  been  insufficient 
to  awaken  confidence ;  and  he  was  now  to  produce  a 
colossal  work,  worthy  of  being  placed  opposite  a  paint- 
ing of  Leonardo's.  And  yet  they  ventured  to  trust 
him  with  it!  Leonardo,  to  whom  the  other  wall 
must  have  fallen  by  right  if  he  worthily  discharged 
his  task,  must  have  felt  mortified,  and  almost  un- 
favorably prejudiced  beforehand ;  for  his  cartoon  was 
ready  when  Michael  Angelo  began  his.  A  great 
hall  in  the  hospital  of  the  dyers  at  St.  Onofrio  was 
allowed  the  latter  for  his  work.  Some  dates  from 
accounts  which  Gaye  discovered  are  very  useful 
here.  On  the  31st  October,  1504,  the  bookbinder 
Bartolomeo  di  Sandro  received  seven  lire  for  fourteen 
sheets  of  Bolognese  royal  paper  for  the  cartoon  of 
Michael  Angelo ;  the  bookbinder,  Bernardo  di  Sal- 
vadorc,  five  lire  for  gluing  it  together ;  in  December, 
the  workmen  were  paid  who  had  stretched  the  paper 
on  the  frame ;  there  exists  also  the  account  of  the 
apothecary  for  wax  and  turpentine,  in  which  paper 
was  steeped  that  was  to  serve  for  windows.  Thus 


EAPHAEL  —  LEONARDO  —  MICHAEL   AXGELO.        259 

we  see  Michael  Angelo  designing  here;  Leonardo 
painting  there;  and  Florence,  within  and  without, 
in  satisfactory  circumstances.  Never  did  the  pros- 
perity of  a  city  develop  itself  more  calmly ;  never 
had  art  in  Florence  done  or  promised  greater  things 
than  at  this  period. 

4. 

To  heighten  the  splendor  of  this  aspect  of  things, 
Raphael  now  appears  also.  He  came  to  the  city  for 
the  first  time  in  the  autumn  of  1504.  He  was 
eighteen  years  old,  and  came  from  Siena,  where  he 
worked  with  Pinturicchio  in  the  library  which  Car- 
dinal Piccolomini  was  building  as  an  addition  to  the 
cathedral.  Close  by  its  entrance,  which  leads  into 
the  interior  of  the  cathedral,  is  the  chapel,  for  which 
Michael  Angelo  had  undertaken  the  fifteen  statu- 
ettes. This  library,  a  wonderful  place,  is  adorned 
with  extensive  fresco  paintings  by  Pinturricchio,  a 
pupil  of  Perugino's,  for  which  Raphael  is  said  to 
have  furnished  the  designs.  He  had  been  allured 
to  Florence,  says  Yasari,  by  the  admiration  with 
which  he  heard  Leonardo's  and  Michael  Angelo's 
works  spoken  of.* 

Giovanni  Santi,  Raphael's  father,  —  a  man  who, 
as  painter,  and  author  of  a  rhyming  chronicle  con- 
taining the  history  of  his  sovereigns,  the  Dukes  of 
Urbino,  had  himself  produced  something  deserving 
honor,  —  died  in  the  year  1494.  Raphael  had  been 
early  obliged  to  help  him  at  his  work ;  he  had  been 
subsequently  placed  as  a  pupil  under  Perugino  ;  and 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXX  L 


260  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

at  length,  when  the  latter  worked  here  and  there, 
and  became  more  at  home  in  Florence  than  in 
Perugia,  he  had  been  obliged  to  make  further  prog- 
ress alone.  The  ducal  family  protected  him  in 
TJrbino.  Compelled  from  his  youth  up  to  accommo- 
date himself  to  the  world,  and  endowed  by  nature 
with  the  gift  of  pleasing  men,  he  found  in  Florence 
the  most  favorable  soil  for  his  further  development ; 
and  his  works  show  what  an  unusual  success  fell  to 
his  lot  there.* 

Patrons  and  friends  appeared  at  once.  Raphael 
was  amiability  itself,  —  la  gentilezza  stessa,  says 
Yasari ;  the  younger  artists  joined  him ;  he  was 
gladly  received  in  the  best  families ;  in  gratitude  for 
kindness  shown,  he  painted  pictures,  and  left  them  in 
the  houses  in  which  he  had  been  well  received.  How 
valuable  would  be  more  intimate  information  as  to 
the  Florentine  life  of  this  one  autumn,  when  the 
three  greatest  artists  of  modern  times  met  together ! 
Leonardo,  on  the  point  of  entering  upon  a  contest 
with  Michael  Angelo,  involving  immense  spoils  of 
glory;  Raphael  between  both,  still  without  fixed 
plans  and  thoughts  of  his  own,  and  only  with  a  fore- 
boding in  his  heart  of  the  great  future  towards  which 
he  was  advancing !  A  closer  acquaintance  with  this 
period  would  be  important,  because  in  it  seem  to  lie 
the  germs  of  that  subsequent  personal  relation 
between  the  three  masters.  Raphael's  deceased 
father  had  been  intimately  acquainted  with  Leon- 
ardo. Perugino,  Raphael's  teacher,  had  been  his 
friend.  Raphael  —  young,  ardent,  insinuating  — 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXII. 


RAPHAEL  —  LEONARDO  —  MICHAEL   AXGELO.        2(J1 

saw  for  the  first  time  the  amazing  works  of  T)a  Vinci, 
and  fell  into  the  very  midst  of  the  jealous  excitement 
of  party  feeling.  Was  it  not  natural,  that,  instead  of 
believing  in  that  which  the  enemy  of  all  his  friends 
and  patrons  was  only  intending  to  do,  he  should  ad- 
here to  that  which  these  had  already  produced  ?  So 
much  is  said  of  the  cause  of  Raphael  and  Michael 
Angelo's  subsequent  division ;  such,  however,  were 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  met  for  the  first 
tune. 

How  different  is  the  youth  of  these  three  men, 
and  the  manner  in  which  they  entered  upon  art! 
Michael  Angelo,  against  the  wishes  of  his  parents, 
through  his  own  inflexible  will ;  Leonardo,  as  a  rich 
young  man,  playing  with  his  talent ;  Raphael,  as  the 
son  of  a  painter,  among  whose  painting  implements 
he  grew  up  as  if  there  were  but  this  one  work  in  the 
world.  Michael  Angelo,  from  the  first  independent, 
pursuing  his  own  ideas,  in  opposition  to  parents  and 
teachers ;  Leonardo,  not  less  self-willed,  following 
his  own  fancy,  and  roaming  over  the  whole  range 
of  art  in  search  of  wild  tasks,  which  should  entice 
him  to  test  his  powers  ;  Raphael,  so  biassed  by  a 
quiet  imitation  of  given  models,  that  his  works  are 
scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  the  productions 
of  those  with  whom  he  met.  And  the  future  also 
which  awaited  the  three  is  only  the  product  of  the 
o]ie  prominent  characteristic  in  each, — of  the  capri- 
ciousness  of  genius  in  Leonardo,  of  violent  will  in 
Michael  Angelo,  and  of  an  almost  womanly  resig- 
nation to  the  circumstances  which  fashioned  his 
destiny  in  Raphael 


262  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

All  three  were  soon  to  reach  a  .decided  turning- 
point  ;  and  first  of  all,  Michael  Angelo,  who,  in  the 
year  1505,  became  acquainted  with  the  men  by 
whom  he  was  recognized  in  all  his  greatness,  and 
was  forced  to  the  highest  development  of  his  tal- 
ents, 


JULIUS  ii.  263 


CHAPTER   SIXTH. 

1505—1508. 

Julius  II.  —  Giuliano  di  San  Gallo  —  Call  to  Rome  —  Bramante  — 
The  Pope's  Mausoleum  —  Remodelling  of  the  Old  Basilica  of 
St.  Peter  —  Journey  to  Carrara  —  The  Pope's  Change  of  Mind 
—  Flight  —  Julius's  Letter  to  the  Signioiy  of  Florence  —  Offer 
on  the  Part  of  the  Sultan  —  Return  to  Rome  as  Ambassador  of 
the  Republic  —  Campaign  of  the  Pope  against  Bologna  —  Cap- 
ture of  the  City  —  Cartoon  of  the  Bathing  Soldiers  —  Leonardo's 
Painting  in  the  Hall  of  the  Consiglio  —  Call  to  Bologna  —  Statue 
of  the  Pope  —  Difficulties  in  Making  the  Cast  —  Disorders  in 
Bologna  —  Erection  of  the  Statue  —  Francesco  Francia  — 
Albrecht  Durer  in  Bologna  —  Return  to  Florence. 


n^HE  policy  of  the  Vatican  had  suffered  no  great 
-*-  alteration  in  the  change  of  persons.  Csesar 
Borgia's  aim  had  been  the  establishment  of  one 
national  kingdom  ;  Julius  II.  desired  nothing  else. 
He  too  had  a  family  whom  he  sought  to  aggrandize  ; 
he  too  was  assisted  by  poison,  murder,  dissimulation, 
and  open  violence.  Like  the  Borgias,  he  had  to 
endeavor  to  keep  the  most  advantageous  middle 
course  between  Spain  and  France.  In  two  points, 
however,  he  differed  from  Pope  Alexander,  —  he 
did  not  allow  others  to  carry  on  war  for  him,  but 
he  marched  himself  into  the  field  ;  and  what  he 
conquered,  was  to  belong  to  the  Church,  and  not 
to  the  Rovere,  his  family.  He  limited  these  to 


264  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Urbino,  their  dukedom.  When  he  died,  he  left 
behind  him  a  treasure  in  the  vaults  of  the  Castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  which  his  relatives  were  not  to  touch, 
and  which  was  to  be  possessed  by  none  other  than 
the  succeeding  pope.  A  rough,  proud  dignity  lies  in 
Julius's  appearance ;  and  his  fierceness  never  degen- 
erated into  cruelty.  That  which  ennobled  him, 
however,  beyond  all  the  popes  before  him  and  after 
him,  is  his  delight  in  the  .works  of  great  artists,  and 
the  discernment  with  which  he  recognized  them, 
and  drew  them  to  himself. 

Among  the  men  whom  he  at  once  summoned  to 
Rome,  Giuliano  di  San  Gallo  was  one  of  the  most 
eminent.  This  man  had  in  earlier  times  fortified 
Ostia  for  him  when  he  was  Cardinal  Vincula. 
These  buildings  were  erected  at  the  beginning  of  the 
last  twenty  years  of  the  century.  San  Gallo,  when 
he  was  at  that  time  called  to  Ostia,  came  from 
Naples,  where  he  had  built,  by  order  of  the  old 
Lorenzo  dei  Medici,  a  place  for  the  Duke  of  Calabria, 
the  son  of  the  king.  He  belonged  to  those  fortunate 
people  who  meet  everywhere  with  fame  and  prince- 
ly favor.  In  Milan  he  was  splendidly  received  by 
Ludovico  Sforza ;  in  Rome  he  was  to  build  a  palace 
for  Vincula;  Alexander  VI.  employed  him,  Csesar 
Borgia  also ;  in  Savona,  the  birthplace  of  the  Rovere, 
he  again  built  for  Vincula,  whom  he  subsequently 
followed  to  France,  where  the  king  took  an  affection 
for  him  ;  lastly,  having  returned  to  Florence,  he  was 
provided  by  the  Government  with  continual  commis- 
sions, until  his  old  patron  now  again  ordered  him  to 
Rome. 


BASILICA   OF   ST.    PETER.  265 

San  Gallo  drew  the  pope's  attention  to  Michael 
Angelo,  and,  in  the  midst  of  his  work  on  the  cartoon, 
he  was  now  summoned  to  Rome.  He  was  paid  at 
once  a  hundred  crowns  for  his  journey.  He  must 
have  arrived  in  Rome  at  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1505. 

In  spite  of  the  haste  with  which  he  had  required 
him,  Julius  did  not  at  once  know  what  he  should 
give  him  to  do.  Some  time  elapsed  before  he  gave 
him  the  order  for  a  colossal  mausoleum,  which  he 
wished  to  have  built  for  himself  in  St.  Peter's. 
Michael  Angelo  sketched  a  design ;  and  the  pope, 
delighted  with  it,  ordered  him  at  once  to  discover 
the  best  place  for  the  monument  in  the  Basilica  of 
St.  Peter. 

This  church,  a  vast  work  belonging  to  the  earli- 
est ages  of  Christendom,  had  been  enlarged  during 
the  century,  and  possessed  an  abundance  of  art- 
treasures.  Giotto  had  executed  mosaics  for  it ;  the 
Pollajuoli  had  been  among  the  last  Florentines  who 
had  worked  in  it.  In  one  of  its  side  chapels,  in 
that  one  dedicated  to  the  holy  Petronella,  stood 
Michael  Angelo' s  Pieta.  With  all  its  out-buildings, 
cloisters,  and  chapels,  the  dwellings  of  the  clergy, 
and  the  Vatican  palace  itself,  which  closely  adjoined 
it,  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter  formed  a  kind  of  eccle- 
siastical fortress ;  having  been  more  than  once 
defended  with  force,  and  conquered.  In  it  the 
emperors  were  crowned,  the  tribute  of  the  lauds 
was  received,  anathemas  were  pronounced  or  re- 
voked. Two  long  rows  of  antique  pillars  supported 

the  framework  of  the  roof.    In  the  court-yard  before 

12 


266  LIFE  OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

it,  surrounded  by  corridors,  there  stood  the  immense 
bronze  pine-apple,  which  once  had  surmounted  the 
mausoleum  of  Hadrian,  and  which  now  served  here 
as  a  fountain,  the  water  gushing  down  between  the 
leaves.  The  facade  of  the  church,  with  its  six 
entrances,  was  adorned  with  frescoes.  There  was 
incessant  work  on  it ;  and,  on  a  large  or  small  scale, 
the  old  was  altered,  and  new  was  added  to,  as  was 
usually  the  case  everywhere  in  the  Italian  churches.* 

Nicolas  Y.  first  conceived  the  idea  of  its  rebuild- 
ing ;  he  wished  thoroughly  to  renew  both  palace 
and  church.  A  model  was  prepared,  and  the  build- 
ing was  begun  in  the  year  1450.  Five  years  after- 
wards, however,  the  pope  died,  and  no  one  thought 
of  carrying  on  his  work ;  all  that  had  been  built  was 
the  beginning  of  a  new  tribune,  the  walls  of  which 
were  raised  a  few  feet  from  the  ground  behind  the 
old  Basilica. 

Michael  Angelo  looked  at  the  work,  and  declared 
that  it  would  be  most  advisable  to  complete  this 
tribune,  and  to  place  the  monument  within  it.  The 
pope  inquired  how  much  it  would  cost.  "  A  hun- 
dred thousand  crowns,"  Michael  Angelo  suggested. 
"  Let  us  say  two  hundred  thousand,"  exclaimed 
Julius ;  and  gave  orders  to  San  Gallo  to  view  the 
locality. 

Not  only  to  Sari  Gallo  did  he  give  this  commission, 
but  he  joined  with  him  a  second  architect,  whom  he 
had  also  taken  into  Ms  service,  and  who  enjoyed  the 
reputation  in  Rome  of  being  the  first  architect  of 
his  time,  —  Bramante  di  Urbino.  He  was  of  the 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXIII. 


BRAMANTE  —  SAN   GALLO.  267 

same  ago  as  San  Gallo.  In  Milan,  and  afterwards 
in  Rome,  lie  had  built  churches  and  palaces  for  the 
Borgia  and  various  cardinals.  Bramante  was  one 
of  those  employed  in  that  palace  which  the  Cardinal 
di  San  Giorgio  was  building  when  Michael  Angelo 
had  arrived  in  Rome  for  the  first  time.  The  pope 
had  now  magnificent  works  in  store  for  him,  —  the 
enlargement  of  the  Vatican  palace,  which  was  to  be 
connected  by  a  passage  with  the  Belvedere,  now 
separated  from  it  by  a  valley. 

Bramante  and  San  Gallo,  who  had  to  do  with  a 
man  equal  to  the  greatest  designs,  carried  matters 
to  such  a  point,  that  it  was  decided  to  overthrow  the 
whole  Basilica,  and  to  place  a  colossal  temple  in  its 
stead.  Both  sketched  designs  for  it.  Bramante's 
proposals  pleased  the  pope  better  than  those  of  San 
Gallo,  to  whom  the  building,  however,  had  been 
already  promised.  Bramante's  plans  were  eminently 
perfect.  Michael  Angelo,  long  afterwards,  gives  him 
this  praise, — he  says  that  every  one  who  deviated 
from  his  designs  deviated  from  the  truth.  San 
Gallo,  however,  not  the  less  deeply  offended,  took 
his  farewell,  and,  without  allowing  himself  to  be 
detained  by  promises,  returned  to  Florence,  where 
he  was  received  with  open  arms  by  Soderini. 

Bramante  held  his  ground.  His  character  may 
be  sketched  with  a  strong  outline.  Inventive,  inde- 
fatigable, and  versatile,  he  knew  well  how  to  accom- 
modate himself  to  the  whims  of  his  master,  whose 
impatient  haste  to  perceive  a  sensible  progress  in  the 
extensive  works  undertaken,  he  understood  how  to 
satisfy  by  unusual  efforts,  often  even  by  artifice.  As 


268  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

long  as  the  pope  lived,  he  remained  in  favor  with 
him ;  and  for  a  long  time  it  never  came  to  light  that 
he  had  placed  too  weak  a  foundation,  and  had  fur- 
nished bad  building  for  high  pay.  He  was  fond  of 
pleasure,  and  wanted  money  ;  and,  suspicious  from 
the  sense  of  his  own  weakness,  he  endeavored  to 
remove  those  whose  quick  eye  he  expected  might 
detect  him. 

He  was  suspicious  of  Michael  Angelo,  from  the 
fact,  that,  while  so  young,  he  had  produced  such 
great  things ;  and  suspicious  to  a  still  greater  extent, 
because  the  pope  took  pleasure  in  him.  He  had 
been  recommended  and  brought  to  Rome  by  San 
Gallo.  What  was  more  natural  than  that  he  should 
endeavor  to  bring  him  back?  Intriguing  natures 
perceive  countermines  everywhere.  Bramante's  first 
care  was  to  get  rid  of  Michael  Angelo  also. 

Of  the  pope's  mausoleum,  as  it  was  projected  by 
Michael  Angelo,  we  have  the  descriptions  of  the 
biographers,  and  an  Indian-ink  drawing,  by  his  own 
hand,  it  seems,  which,  after  being  possessed  by  vari- 
ous people,  is  now  preserved  in  the  collection  of  the 
Uffici  in  Florence.  Many  designs  were  indeed  re- 
quired before  the  pope  decided  ;  and  it  is  not  certain 
whether  the  plate  lying  before  us  is  the  very  one 
upon  which  Julius  ordered  the  entire  work  for  ten 
thousand  crowns.  But,  as  the  sketch  agrees  with 
Condivi's  description,  and  no  different  conception  is 
known,  we  may  meanwhile  consider  it  as  the  au- 
thentic one. 

The  mausoleum  consisted  of  three  parts,  rising 
one  above  another.  First  of  all,  there  was  a  sub- 


THE   MAUSOLEUM.  269 

structure  thirteen  feet  high,  upon  a  base  of  thirty- 
six  feet  by  twenty-four.*  The  Florentine  sketch 
represents  the  work  as  seen  from  one  of  the  two 
narrower  sides,  and  gives  only  two  of  the  three  over- 
lying parts.  The  paper  seems  to  be  divided  above  ; 
the  pinnacle,  therefore,  is  wanting.  We  see  the  sub- 
structure in  this  drawing  divided  into  two  archi- 
tectural groups,  which,  lying  side  by  side,  form  the 
surface  turned  towards  us.  On  the  right  and  left, 
there  are  two  niches  with  statues  in  them  ;  on  both 
sides  of  each  niche,  on  quadrangular  projecting 
pedestals,  are  naked  youths,  resting  their  backs 
against  the  flat  half-pillars  to  which  they  are  chained 
as  prisoners,  and  which,  above  their  heads,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  Hernias,  become  figures  of  Romans 
armed  with  mail,  upon  whose  heads  again  lies  the 
strongly  projecting  cornice,  enclosing  the  whole 
lower  structure.  The  statues  in  the  niches  are  gods 
of  victory,  with  the  conquered  cities  under  their 
feet.f  The  naked  youths  denote  the  arts  and 
sciences,  which,  at  the  death  of  the  pope,  expire 
also. 

If  we  see,  therefore,  on  the  side  turned  to  us,  four 
youths,  four  pillars  terminating  above  in  human 
figures,  and  two  Victories  ;  and  if  we  think  of  this 
number  four  times  repeated,  corresponding  to  the 
four  sides  of  the  monument,  —  we  obtain  forty  stat- 
ues for  this  colossal  pedestal  of  the  whole  work. 

Each  of  the  two  niches,  with  statues,  base,  and 
cornice,  forms  a  whole ;  the  two  wholes  next  each 
other  form  one  side.  Yet  they  do  not  directly 

*  See  Appendix,  'Note  XXXI¥.  f  /&zW.,  Note  XXXV. 


270  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

touch  each  other ;  but  a  space  lies  between  them, 
which  somewhat  recedes,  and  appears  like  a  smooth 
surface  in  the  sketch.  On  the  two  broader  sides, 
this  space  must  have  been  considerably  broader ; 
almost  as  broad  as  the  two  architectural  groups 
themselves,  between  which  it  lay.  I  suppose  that 
on  this  flat  surface  the  bronze  tablets  with  bas- 
reliefs  and  inscriptions  were  to  be  inserted,  which 
Condivi  mentions  generally  as  belonging  to  the 
work.* 

In  the  middle  of  this  lower  structure  rises  the 
second  story,  the  actual  funeral  vault,  in  which  the 
sarcophagus  with  the  corpse  was  to  rest.  It  is  open 
at  the  side,  so  that  the  sarcophagus  within  might  be 
seen.  We  see  the  head  of  it  in  our  sketch,  At 
each  of  the  four  corners  of  this  vault  sit  two  colossal 
figures,  two  turning  to  each  side,  and  so  placed  that 
each  stands  in  the  centre  over  one  of  those  architec- 
tural groups  of  the  lower  building.  The  whole 
might  therefore  be  thus  described :  There  were  four 
immense  pedestals  tolerably  near  each  other,  on  each 
of  which  were  two  sitting  figures,  on  the  four  corners 
of  a  monument,  which,  placed  in  the  midst,  rested 
with  one  corner  on  each  of  the  four  pedestals. 

The  eight  sitting  statues  are  Moses,  St.  Paul,  Ac- 
tive and  Contemplative  Life ;  f  more  are  not  men- 
tioned. Vasari  and  Condivi  assert  that  there  were 
only  four  statues  in  all,  —  one,  therefore,  at  each 
angle.  The  drawing,  however,  indicates  eight  dis- 
tinctly ;  and  this  seems  also  in  accordance  with  the 
idea  and  the  proportions. 

»  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXV*          f  /WA,  Note  XXXVII. 


JOURNEY   TO    CARRARA.  271 

Of  that  which,  lastly,  was  to  crown  the  whole  of 
this  second  building,  we  have  only  the  description. 
Two  angelic  forms  were  to  be  seen  there,  bearing  on 
their  shoulders  an  open  sarcophagus,  with  the  figure 
of  the  pope  falling  into  the  sleep  of  death ;  Yasari 
gives  them  the  names  Cielo  and  Cybele,  —  Cybele, 
the  genius  of  the  earth,  weeping  because  the  earth 
has  lost  such  a  man ;  Cielo,  the  heaven,  smiling 
because  the  happy  one  falls  into  rapture  on  his 
entrance.* 

If  we  reckon  the  height  of  the  lower  structure  at 
thirteen  feet,  that  of  the  second  part  resting  on  it  as 
nine,  that  of  the  uppermost  at  about  seven,  thirty 
feet  would  be  rather  too  low  than  too  high  for  the 
whole  work.  With  more  than  fifty  statues,  rich 
works  in  bronze,  and  the  finest  architectural  decora- 
tion in  arabesques,  flowers,  and  other  ornaments, 
a  human  life  seems  hardly  sufficient  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  such  a  project.  But  calculations  of  a 
similar  kind  frightened  neither  the  artist  nor  the 
pope,  who,  full  of  years,  appeared  as  if  he  would 
begin  anew  a  long  and  glorious  life. 

2. 

Julius  urged  upon  an  immediate  journey  to  Car- 
rara. Michael  Angelo  received  a  bill  of  a  thousand 
ducats  upon  a  Florentine  house,  and  left  Rome. 

Carrara  lies  in  the  most  northern  part  of  Tuscany, 
on  the  borders  of  the  Genoese  territory,  where 
the  Apennines  run  close  down  to  the  shore  of  the 
Tyrrhenian  Sea,  not  far  from  Sarzana  and  Pietra 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXVIII. 


272  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

Santa.  Michael  Angelo  remained  eight  months  in 
the  quarries  there.  He  had  two  servants  and  a  pair 
of  horses  with  him.  Two  of  the  figures  chained  to 
the  columns  he  had  rough-hewn  there ;  the  rest 
of  the  marble  was  conveyed  away  in  blocks.  The 
contract  with  ship-owners  of  Lavagna,  a  Genoese  sea- 
port town  situated  to  the  north,  speaks  of  the  12th 
November,  1505.  The  people  undertook,  for  sixty- 
two  gold  ducats,  to  convey  the  marble  to  Rome.  He 
sent,  however,  a  part  of  the  stone  to  Florence,  where 
the  work  was  to  be  had  more  cheaply  and  easily. 
Here,  too,  the  transport  was  to  be  effected  by  water 
to  the  very  spot. 

When  in  January,  1506,  he  again  arrived  in  Rome, 
a  part  of  his  blocks  lay  already  on  the  banks  of 
the  Tiber ;  yet  it  fared  ill  with  the  transport  of  the 
marble,  as  a  letter  written  on  the  last  of  the  month 
to  his  father  bears  witness.  "  I  should  be  quite  con- 
tented here,"  he  says  in  it,  "  if  only  my  marble 
would  come.  I  am  unhappy  about  it;  for  not  for 
two  days  only,  but  as  long  as  I  have  been  here,  we 
have  had  good  weather.  A  few  days  ago,  a  bark, 
which  has  just  arrived,  was  within  a  hair's-brcadth 
of  perishing.  When,  from  bad  weather,  the  blocks 
were  conveyed  by  land,  the  river  overflowed,  and 
placed  them  under  water ;  so  that  up  to  this  day  I 
have  been  able  to  do  nothing.  I  must  endeavor  to 
keep  the  pope  in  good  humor  by  empty  words,  so 
that  his  good  temper  may  not  fail.  I  hope  all  may 
soon  be  in  order,  and  that  I  may  begin  my  work. 
God  grant  it!" 

"  Be  so  good,"  he  continues,  "  as  to  take  all  my 


LETTER   FROM   ROME.  273 

drawings,  —  that  is,  the  sheets  which  I  packed  up 
together,  and  told  you  to  make  a  parcel  of  them,  — 
and  send  them  to  me  by  a  carrier.  But  take  good 
care  that  the  damp  does  no  harm,  and  see  that  the 
smallest  sheet  does  not  escape :  lay  strong  injunc- 
tions upon  the  carrier  ;  for  there  are  matters  there 
of  great  importance  to  me.  Write  also  through 
whom  you  have  sent  it,  and  what  I  have  to  pay  the 
man.  I  have  begged  Michael  (probably  one  of 
the  workmen  at  the  monument)  by  letter  to  have 
my  chests  conveyed  to  a  safe  and  covered  place,  and 
then  to  send  them  here  to  Rome,  and  under  no 
circumstances  to  leave  me  in  the  lurch.  I  know 
not  what  has  befallen  them ;  pray  remind  him  of  it ; 
and,  at  all  events,  I  beg  you  particularly  to  be  care- 
ful of  two  things,  —  first,  that  the  chest  stands  quite 
safely ;  and,  secondly,  that  you  will  have  my  marble 
Madonna  conveyed  to  your  house,  and  that  no  one 
shall  get  a  sight  of  it.  I  send  no  money  for  the 
expenses,  because  they  can  be  but  unimportant. 
But,  even  if  you  have  to  borrow,  be  quick.  As  soon 
as  my  marble  arrives,  you  shall  have  money  for 
every  thing. 

"  God  grant  that  my  affairs  here  take  a  good  turn ! 
and  invest,  if  possible,  about  one  thousand  ducats  in 
land,  as  we  have  decided."  * 

We  see  how  he  at  once  gives  a  considerable  sum 
of  his  money  into  his  father's  hands.  The  Madonna 
is  probably  that  now  to  be  found  at  Bruges,  which 
was  either  at  this  time  not  entirely  finished,  or 
not  sold. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XXXIX. 


274  LIFE    OF    MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

It  seems  soon  to  have  fared  better  with  the  marbk . 
Michael  Angelo  had  the  stone  brought  upon  the 
square  in  front  of  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter  behind 
St.  Katarina,  where  he  dwelt.  The  whole  city  was 
amazed  at  the  blocks  which  covered  the  entire  square ; 
but  the  pope  above  all  took  -delight  in  it ;  and  of  this 
he  made  Michael  Angelo  sensible  by  an  excess  of 
condescending  familiarity.  He  often  visited  him  in 
his  atelier,  sat  with  him  there,  and  discussed  his 
work  or  other  things.  At  length,  to  make  it  easier, 
he  had  a  passage,  with  a  drawbridge,  constructed 
between  the  atelier  and  his  own  palace,  which  lay 
quite  near ;  and  he  thus  came  to  him  without  any 
one  perceiving  it. 

Michael  Angelo  was  considered  at  that  time  the 
first  sculptor  in  Rome.  We  only  find  one  rival 
named  in  Cristoforo  Romano,  —  a  name  which,  if  it 
were  not  casually  mentioned  in  another  place  (the 
Cortigiano  of  Count  Castiglione,  in  which  he  belongs 
to  the  witty  society  assembled  at  Urbino,  of  whose 
conversations  the  book  consists),  would  have  been 
long  ago  lost  and  forgotten  in  the  history  of  art.  At 
the  same  time  it  occurs  in  connection  with  Michael 
Angelo' s  in  a  letter  which  Csesar  Trivulzio  wrote  to 
Pomponio  Trivulzio  on  the  latest  antiquarian  dis- 
covery,—  the  finding  of  the  Laocoon. 

In  the   spring  of  1506,  the  famous   group  was 
discovered  in  the  ruins  of  the  palace  of  Titus,*  by 
the  owner  of  the  place,  a  Roman  citizen.     It  was 
still  hidden  in  the  ground  when  the  pope  was  in 
formed  of  the  discovery.    He  sent  to  Giuliano  da  San 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XL. 


THE  LAOCOON.  275 

Gallo,  that  he  was  to  go  and  see  what  was  there. 
Francesco,  Giuliano's  son,  tells  the  story.  "  Michael 
Angelo,"  he  says,  "  who  was  almost  always  at  home 
with  us  (my  father  had  made  him  come,  and  had  ob- 
tained for  him  the  order  for  the  mausoleum),  was 
just  there.  My  father  begged  him  to  go  too ;  and  so 
we  all  three  set  out,  I  behind  my  father.  When  we 
dismounted  where  the  statue  lay,  my  father  said 
at  once,  '  That  is  the  Laocoon  which  Pliny  speaks 
of.'  They  now  enlarged  the  opening,  so  that  it  could 
be  drawn  out.  After  we  had  examined  it,  we  went 
home  and  breakfasted." 

The  owner  of  the  figure  wished  to  sell  the  work 
to  a  cardinal  for  five  hundred  crowns,  when  the  pope 
interfered,  paid  the  money,  and  had  a  "  kind  of 
chapel"  constructed  for  the  group  in  the  Belvedere. 
It  was  now  to  be  tested,  whether  Pliny's  assertion, 
that  the  group  was  executed  from  one  single  block, 
accorded  with  the  truth.  Cristoforo  Romano  and 
Michael  Angelo,*  "  the  first  sculptors  in  Rome,"  were 
called.  They  declared  that  the  group  consisted  of 
several  pieces,  and  showed  four  seams,  which  were, 
however,  so  well  concealed,  and  the  cementing  of 
which  was  so  excellently  done,  that  Pliny  is  absolved 
for  having  fallen  into  so  excusable  an  error,  although 
ho  may  have  intentionally  told  an  untruth  to  make 
the  work  more  famous. 

The  Laocoon  at  that  time  occupied  the  minds  of 
all  in  Rome.  Verses  were  enclosed  in  the  letter, 
which  were  made  in  its  praise  by  the  first  scholars, 
—  Sadolet,  Beroaldo,  and  Jacopo  Sincere.  Of  one 

*  See.  Appendix,  Note  XLI. 


276  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

of  these  poems  Trivulzio  says,  that  it  was  so  excel- 
lent, that,  in  reading  it,  one  could  have  done  without 
a  sight  of  the  work  itself.  Probably  he  meant  the 
poetical  description  of  the  work  by  Sadolet  (pub- 
lished in  some  annotations  to  Lessing's  Laocoon),  in 
praise  of  which  Lessing  also  incidentally  remarks, 
that  it  would  stand  in  the  stead  of  a  representa- 
tion. 

At  the  present  day  there  lies  by  the  side  of  the 
group,  as  it  stands  newly  restored  in  the  Yatican,  a 
rough-hewn  arm  with  serpents,  which  is  said  to  have 
been  a  work  of  Michael  Angelo's,  and  which,  so  far 
as  regards  movement,  is  more  correct  than  that 
which  has  been  joined  by  another  hand  to  the 
shoulder  of  the  Laocoon.  Yet,  as  this  attempt  of 
Michael  Angelo's  is  nowhere  mentioned,  I  doubt  the 
truth  of  the  statement.  If  the  arm,  however,  should, 
in  spite  of  this,  have  been  his  work,  it  must  have 
been  produced  at  a  much  later  period. 

In  May,  1506,  Michael  Angelo  was  already  work- 
ing again  at  Carrara.  The  first  transmission  of 
marble  was  insufficient.  Had  he  had  his  will,  he 
would  have  at  last  required  whole  mountains.  His 
ideas  even  surpassed  the  aspiring  mind  of  the  pope. 
A  rock,  which,  rising  on  the  coast  at  Carrara,  is 
visible  far  out  to  sea,  he  wished  to  transform  into 
a  colossus,  to  serve  as  a  mark  to  mariners.  In  this 
he  did  not  fall  far  short  of  the  ideas  cherished  by  a 
certain  Greek  artist,  who  wished  to  convert  a  moun- 
tain into  a  statue  of  Alexander  the  Great,  holding  a 
city  in  each  hand. 

This  second  absence  of  Michael  Angelo  was,  how- 


THE   POPE'S   CHANGE   OF   MIND.  277 

ever,  made  use  of  by  Bramante.  He  suggested  to 
the  pope,  that  it  was  an  evil  omen  to  build  himself 
a  mausoleum  during  his  lifetime  ;  and  he  succeeded 
in  essentially  cooling  his  ardor.  The  vessels  with 
the  new  marble  arrived ;  Michael  Angelo  was  on  the 
spot ;  he  wanted  money  to  pay  the  sailors.  The  pope 
had  directed,  for  greater  convenience,  that  Michael 
Angelo  should  be  admitted  unannounced  to  his 
presence  at  all  times.  Objections  were  now  made ; 
and,  when  -he  did  gain  admission,  he  received  no 
money.  He  was  compelled  to  apply  to  Jacopo  Galli, 
who  advanced  him  from  a  hundred  and  fifty  to  two 
hundred  ducats,  as  he  required. 

The  marble-cutters  now  appeared  whom  he  had 
hired  in  Florence.  He  took  them  into  his  house ; 
the  work  was  to  proceed;  but  Julius  was  as  if 
changed,  —  he  urged  no  longer,  nor  would  he  give 
any  money.  One  day,  Michael  Angelo  resolved  to 
clear  up  the  matter.  Without  further  ceremony  he 
determined  to  enter  the  palace.  One  of  the  servants 
of  the  pope  refused  him  admission.  The  Bishop  of 
Lucca,  who  just  then  arrived,  said  to  the  man,  "  Do 
you  not  know  the  master  ?" — "Excuse  me,"  replied 
he ;  "I  have  express  commands  not  to  admit  you, 
and  must  carry  out  what  I  am  ordered,  without 
troubling  myself  why." 

Michael  Angelo  knew  what  he  had  to  do.  He 
turned  round,  went  home,  and  wrote  in  the  follow- 
ing manner  to  the  pope :  "  Most  Holy  Father,  —  I 
was  this  morning  driven  from  the  palace  by  the  order 
of  your  Holiness.  If  you  require  me  in  future,  you 
can  Beek  me  elsewhere  than  in  Rome."  He  deliv- 


278  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

ered  this  letter  to  Messer  Agostino,  the  pope's  cup- 
bearer, to  give  to  him;  and  ordering  one  of  his 
workmen  to  find  out  a  Jew,  to  sell  all  his  possessions 
to  him,  and  to  follow  him  with  the  money  to  Flor- 
ence, he  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  without  stop- 
ping until  he  was  on  Florentine  ground. 

Here  the  people  who  had  been  sent  after  him  from 
Rome  reached  him.  They  were  to  bring  him  back 
by  force ;  but  in  Poggibonsi,  where  they  were  now 
treating  with  him,  they  could  venture  nothing. 
Michael  Angelo  was  a  citizen  of  Florence,  and 
threatened  to  have  them  slaughtered  if  they  touched 
him.  They  had  recourse  to  solicitation ;  but  they 
could  gain  nothing  more  than  such  a  reply  to  the 
pope's  letter  as  they  themselves  pleaded  as  impos- 
sible. The  pope  had  written  that  he  was  at  once  to 
repair  to  Rome,  or  expect  his  displeasure.  Michael 
Angelo  replied,  that  he  would  not  return,  now  or 
ever ;  that  he  had  not  deserved  such  a  change  for 
the  good  and  true  service  he  had  rendered,  as  to  be 
driven  from  the  presence  of  his  Holiness  like  a  crim- 
inal ;  and,  as  the  erection  of  the  mausoleum  was  no 
longer  of  importance  to  his  Holiness,  he  considered 
himself  released  from  his  engagement,  and  had  no 
desire  to  enter  upon  others.  With  this  he  dis- 
missed the  pope's  messengers,  and  proceeded  to 
Florence.  It  must  have  been  the  end  of  June,  or 
the  beginning  of  the  following  month,  when  he  again 
arrived  there. 

Work  he  found  in  plenty ;  the  cartoon  occupied 
the  first  place.  Scarcely  had  he  begun,  than  a 
letter  arrived  from  the  pope  to  the  Government, 


JULIUS'S   LETTER   TO    THE   SIGNIORY.  279 

"All  health  and  my  apostolic  blessing  to  our 
dearly  beloved  sons-,"  writes  Julius  to  the  Signiory. 
"  Michael  Angelo  the  sculptor,  who  has  left  us  capri- 
ciously and  rashly,  fears,  we  hear,  to  return.  We 
entertain  no  anger  against  him,  as  we  know  the 
habit  and  humor  of  men  of  this  sort.  That  he 
may,  however,  lay  aside  all  suspicion,  we  remind 
you  of  the  submission  you  owe  to  us  ;  and  we  invite 
you  to  promise  him  in  our  name,  that,  if  he  will 
return  to  us,  he  can  come  free  and  untouched,  and 
that  we  will  receive  him  with  the  same  favor  as  lie 
enjoyed  before  he  left  us.  Rome,  the  8th  July,  1506, 
third  year  of  our  pontificate." 

Soderini  answered  to  this,  that  Michael  Angelo 
feared  to  such  an  extent,  that,  in  spite  of  the  assu- 
rances contained  in  the  letter,  he  required  an  espe- 
cial statement  from  his  Holiness,  that  he  should  be 
safe  and  uninjured.  He  had  tried  every  thing  to 
move  him  to  return,  and  he  still  continued  to  do  so ; 
but  he  knew  too  well,  that,  if  they  did  not  deal  very 
gently  with  Michael  Angelo,  he  would  have  recourse 
to  flight.  He  had  been  twice  011  the  point  of  it. 

We  do  not  imagine  here,  that  that  which  is 
usually  called  fear  is  meant,  when  Soderini  speaks 
of  Michael  Angelo  as  impaurito,  —  filled  with  fear. 
He  had  full  cause  not  to  trust  the  pope.  Similar 
promises,  nay,  even  the  most  sacred  oaths  upon 
honor  and  conscience,  were  the  ordinary  stratagem 
for  alluring  into  the  snare  those  whom  they  desired 
to  get  into  their  possession.  Julius  had  too  openly 
and  too  frequently  shown  what  value  was  to  be  set 
upon  his  protestations ;  Michael  Angelo  followed 


280  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  simplest  dictates  of  prudence,  when  he  refused 
to  trust  his  mild  language.  A  second  letter  arrived 
from  Rome.  Soderini  sent  for  him.  "  You  have 
treated  the  pope  in  a  manner  such  as  the  King  of 
France  would  not  have  done  ! "  he  said  to  him. 
"  There  must  be  an  end  of  trifling  with  him  now ! 
We  will  not  for  your  sake  begin  a  war  with  the 
pope,  and  risk  the  safety  of  the  State.  Make 
arrangements  to  return  to  Rome." ' 

Michael  Angelo,  since  matters  had  taken  this 
turn,  now  thought  seriously  of  flight.  The  sultan, 
who  had  heard  of  his  fame,  had  made  him  offers. 
He  was  to  build  a  bridge  for  him  between  Constanti- 
nople and  Pera.  A  Franciscan  monk  had  been  the 
negotiator  in  this  appointment.  The  Florentines 
had  been  on  the  best  terms  with  the  sultans  since 
the  conquest  of  Byzantium.  With  no  fleet  and 
policy  of  their  own  in  the  Levant,  like  the  Genoese 
and  Venetians,  they  inspired  no  suspicion ;  they 
had,  on  the  contrary,  won  confidence  from  having 
betrayed  at  a  convenient  time  the  plans  of  these  two 
rivals.  A  great  number  of  Florentine  houses  were 
established  in  Constantinople ;  and  the  intercourse 
between  Florence  and  that  city  was  very  lively. 
Italian  masters  had  been  already  often  invited  there. 
Michael  Angelo  would  have  found  employment, 
favor,  and  friends. 

The  gonfalonier  reported  to  Rome  that  nothing 
was  to  be  done  with  him.  The  pope  must  offer  him 
sure  guarantees ;  otherwise  he  would  not  come.  He 
would  do,  however,  what  he  could,  as  the  capricious 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLII. 


MICHAEL   ANGELO'S  RETURN   TO   ROME.  281 

nature  of  the  man  afforded  perhaps  hope  of  a 
change  of  resolve. 

Julius's  third  letter  seems  to  have  contained  what 
was  desired.  Soderini,  too,  now  heard  of  Michael 
Angelo's  Turkish  journey.  He  represented  to  him 
how  much  better  it  would  be  to  go  to  Rome,  were 
it  even  to  die  there,  than  to  spend  his  life  with  the 
sultan.  But  he  assured  him  he  had  nothing  to 
fear.  The  pope  was  clement  by  nature ;  he  desired 
him  back  because  he  wished  him  well ;  and,  if  he  still 
put  no  faith  in  all  his  promises,  the  Government 
would  let  him  travel  in  the  capacity  of  ambassador. 
"Whoever  then  harmed  him  in  any  way  offended  the 
Florentine  republic.  As  Michael  Angelo,  from  his 
birth  and  age,  had  long  ago  been  a  member  of 
the  consiglio  grande,  and  as  such  was  qualified  for 
any  office,  Soderini's  proposal  appears  thoroughly 
practical.  In  the  present  day,  perhaps,  a  distin- 
guished man  would  in  a  similar  manner  be  attached 
to  a  foreign  embassy. 

Michael  Angelo  acceded  to  this.  The  Government 
gave  him  an  especial  letter  of  recommendation  to 
the  Cardinal  of  Pavia,  the  pope's  favorite,  through 
whom  the  negotiations  on  his  behalf  had  been  chiefly 
carried  on.  In  this  letter  there  is  certainly  nothing 
of  his  coming  as  ambassador ;  but,  as  he  was  to 
be  designated  ambasciadore*  only  for  the  sake  of 
the  name,  this  is,  on  the  other  hand,  no  proof  that 
ho  acted  in  this  capacity  generally.  The  letter  is 
dated  the  21st  August,  1506  ;  but,  on  the  27th,  the 
pope  had  already  left  Rome  to  begin  the  Avar,  which 

*  Appendix,  Note  XLIIl. 


282  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

was  the  commencement  of  those  contests,  in  which 
he  again  resumed  his  old  military  career  with  all 
the  energy  of  which  he  was  capable. 

3. 

Men  had  been  astonished  at  the  peaceful  begin- 
ning of  his  pontificate.  Judging  from  his  character, 
they  expected  him  long  ago  to  have  taken  up  arms. 
Yet  his  nature  seemed  to  have  changed,  and  to 
exhibit  no  symptom  of  the  old  vengeance  that  he 
had  wished  to  take  on  so  many  foes.  But  he  was 
secretly  gathering  together  money  to  raise  an  army. 
The  papal  election  had  cost  him  too  much.  He 
must  first  of  all  have  his  coffers  full  again..  Hitherto 
he  had  endeavored  privately  so  to  guide  matters, 
that,  when  he  should  at  length  appear  in  arms,  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  his  way. 

Thus,  for  a  time,  peace  had  prevailed  in  Italy,  ex- 
cepting always  the  everlasting  war  of  the  Florentines 
against  Pisa.  Yet,  while  the  pope  was  making  his 
secret  plans,  others  were  making  theirs  also. 

Milan  belonged  to  France ;  Louis  XII.  had  been 
invested  with  it  by  the  emperor.  Florence  enjoyed 
the  protection  of  France  in  the  first  instance ;  and 
yet,  with  the  possession  of  Genoa  and  Lombarcly, 
Louis  had  been  obliged  to  adopt  the  policy  of  Sforza 
and  Visconti,  which  clung  as  it  were  to  the  soil, — 
he  was  obliged  to  strive  for  the  possession  of  the 
western  coast  of  Italy,  and  to  endeavor  to  obtain 
Pisa.  At  the  same  time,  there  yet  remained  the 
usual  pretensions  to  Naples,  which  Gonsalvo,  the 
great  captain,  had  gloriously  reconquered  for  Spain, 


STATE   OP  THINGS   IN    1506.  283 

and  ruled  as  viceroy.  Behind  all  this,  however, 
there  lurked  the  greatest  thought  of  all,  —  the  em- 
pire !  Louis  wished  to  be  crowned  in  Rome  as 
emperor ;  this,  too,  had  been  the  old  longing  of  his 
predecessors,  which  had  been  transmitted  to  him, 
and  which  his  successors  cherished  fruitlessly,  until 
Napoleon  at  length  realized  it. 

So  long  as  Julius  was  in  power,  this  was  not,  how- 
ever, possible.  He  must  therefore  be  set  aside.  The 
Cardinal  d'Aniboise,  Julius's  rival  at  the  election 
(with  Ascanio  Sforza,  who,  a  prisoner  in  France,  had 
died  rapidly  of  the  plague,  that  is,  he  was  poisoned), 
was  to  be  serviceable  to  him  in  this.  He  reckoned 
that  a  council  would  depose  Julius,  and  elect  Amboise 
in  his  stead.  He  entertained  at  present  no  fixed 
plans,  only  a  few  leading  ideas ;  but,  as  it  was  natural 
that  they  should  come  into  the  king's  mind,  it  was 
equally  natural  that  Julius  himself  should  be  aware 
of  them,  and  endeavor  to  protect  himself. 

And  this  for  a  while  appeared  not  very  difficult. 
Two  powers  were  opposed  to  the  king,  who  took  care 
that  not  a  step  should  be  taken  by  France,  to  which 
they  had  not  given  their  assent  beforehand.  Spain, 
in  the  first  branch,  —  that  is,  Aragon,  which,  after 
Isabella's  death,  was  again  separated  from  Castile, 
and  was  now  united  with  Naples,  —  obeyed  the  old 
King  Ferdinand.  Then  there  was  Maximilian,  the 
King  of  Rome,  whose  son,  Duke  Philip  of  Burgundy, 
now  possessed  Castile.  He  governed  there  for  his 
son  Charles,  afterwards  Charles  V.  The  Castile 
nobles,  fearing  for  their  rights,  had  called  him  to 
their  country.  For  King  Ferdinand  also  wished 


284  LIFE  OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

to  govern  in  Castile  for  Charles,  who  was  his  grand- 
son. The  relationship  stands  briefly  thus:  Maxi- 
milian married  Mary  of  Burgundy ;  Philip,  the  son 
of  this  marriage,  was  united  to  a  daughter  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  Thus  Charles,  who  was  at 
once  the  grandchild  of  both  Ferdinand  and  Maxi- 
milian, had  a  right  to  the  two  Spains,  to  Burgundy, 
and  to  the  imperial  crown,  —  all  of  which  subse- 
quently devolved  upon  him. 

At  that  time,  however,  when  Charles's  mother  had 
just  died  mad,  and  he  was  himself  a  delicate  child, 
these  prospects  only  caused  Maximilian  to  turn  more 
vigorously  to  the  south.  He  wished  to  restore  the 
German  empire  to  honor,  to  win  back  Milan  some 
day  for  Charles,  to  humble  Venice,  and  to  drive 
back  the  pope  into  his  old  dependent  position. 

Such  were  the  Hapsburg  ideas  of  that  day.  And, 
perhaps  for  the  sake  of  reconciling  them  with  those 
of  France,  a  marriage  was  proposed  between  Charles 
and  Claude,  the  daughter  of  Louis. 

Standing  between  two  such  powers,  whose  policy 
embraced  the  whole  of  Europe,  small  scope  remained 
for  the  popes.  They  must  be  subject  to  the  one  or 
the  other.  It  was  a  repetition  of  those  centuries 
long  ago,  when  France  and  Germany  each  endeavored 
to  appoint  her  own  pope.  Things,  however,  moulded 
themselves  into  form.  The  existence  of  Venice  and 
Ferdinand  of  Aragon  caused  four  to  be  always 
fellow-players  in  the  game  ;  England  also  interfered. 
Thus  opportunity  was  given  for  coalitions ;  and,  in 
the  general  confusion,  battle-fields  for  Julius's  ambi- 
tion presented  themselves. 


JULIUS    II.    AGAINST   PERUGIA.  285 

His  nature  needed  violent  excitement,  and  this 
was  the  real  ground  of  his  actions.  He  threw  him- 
self upon  whatever  lay  nearest.  After  Borgia's 
overthrow,  the  Venetians  had  again  seized  upon 
a  part  of  the  Romagna, —  Ravenna,  Cervia,  and 
Rimini,  three  important  seaports,  and  Faenza  in  the 
interior.  The  two  first  possessed  salt-mines,  which 
yielded  unusual  revenues.  Venice  offered  Rimini 
voluntarily  in  the  year  1504 ;  but  Julius  replied  that 
he  hoped  to  obtain  possession  of  all  by  force.  In 
the  beginning  of  1505,  the  Venetians  appeared  still 
more  willing :  they  were  now  ready  to  give  up  every 
thing  as  far  as  Rimini  and  Faenza,  so  long  as  the 
pope  would  again  receive  into  favor  at  Rome  the 
ambassadors  of  the  city  which  had  been  excommu- 
nicated. To  this  he  acceded  for  a  time.  "Without 
France,  he  could  do  nothing  against  Venice ;  and, 
willingly  as  Louis  would  have  seen  the  Venetians 
humbled,  he  little  wished  to  bring  Maximilian  into 
Italy,  whom  a  war  against  the  city  would  have  at 
once  placed  in  motion. 

Julius  could,  therefore,  for  the  present,  undertake 
nothing  on  this  side.  But  he  wished  to  have  war 
He,  resolved  to  bring  back  under  his  authority 
Bologna  and  Perugia,  —  two  papal  cities  which  had 
many  years  ago  risen  into  independence  under  the 
Bentivogli  and  Baglioni.  Against  these  two  families 
he  cherished  a  personal  enmity ;  and  France  showed 
herself  here  more  inclined. to  afford  active  assistance, 
for  she  feared  an  alliance  of  Julius  with  Venice. 

Accompanied  by  the  cardinals,  the  pope  inarched 
with  his  army  from  Rome, —  first  to  Perugia,  which 


286  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

lay  half-way  to  Bologna.  He  had  with  him  not  more 
than  five  hundred  lances,  —  that  is,  five  hundred 
heavy-armed  horsemen,  who,  with  their  retinue, 
represented  a  far  greater  number.  The  reinforce- 
ments of  allies  were  to  join  them  on  the  way. 
Gianpagolo  Baglioni,  on  the  other  hand,  long  accus- 
tomed to  war,  was  so  well  provided  with  soldiers, 
that  he  could  have  confidently  defended  his  city. 
Nevertheless,  he  met  Julius  at  Orvieto,  tendered 
his  submission,  and  was  taken  into  service  with  his 
people.  In  the  midst  of  couri^state  and  cardinals, 
the  pope  made  a  solemn  entrance  into  Perugia ;  his 
only  protection  being  his  body-guard  round  him. 
Baglioni  might  have  now  taken  him,  with  his  whole 
retinue.  It  would,  perhaps,  have  been  a  good  busi- 
ness. But  this  man,  who  had,  assassin-like,  murdered 
all  his  relatives,  felt  himself  paralyzed  by  Julius's 
appearance,  and  allowed  the  beautiful  opportunity, 
as  Macchiavelli  calls  it,  of  gaining  the  admiration  of 
his  contemporaries,  and  everlasting  glory,  to  pass 
by  unused,  only  because  he  lacked  the  courage  to  be 
as  wise  as  the  moment  required.  And,  that  this 
opinion  may  not  appear  as  a  strange  view  of  Mac- 
chiavelli's,  be  it  observed  that  Guicciardini  also 
censured  in  Baglioni  this  want  of  energy  at  the  right 
moment.  Such  was  the  age.  It  never  occurred  to 
either  to  call  to  mind  what  a  disgrace  it  would  have 
been  to  have  seized  by  artifice  the  head  of  Christen- 
dom. 

In  Perugia,  the  Cardinal  cf  Narbonne  appeared  in 
the  name  of  the  King  of  France,  desiring  Julius 
at  least  to  defer  his  undertaking  against  Bologna 


JULIUS   II.    AGAINST  BOLOGNA.  287 

The  pope  had  left  Rome  before  Louis  had  surely 
promised  him  his  help.  The  Bentivogli  were  on 
good  terms  with  France.  But  the  reminder  had 
no  other  effect  than  that  the  pope  gathered  together 
soldiers  on  all  sides,  that  he  might  advance  the  more 
speedily.  The  king  yielded.  Julius  was  obliged  to 
promise  not  to  attack  Venice ;  and,  upon  this  con- 
dition, Louis  furnished  six  hundred  horse  and  three 
thousand  infantry.  Baglioni  led  a  hundred  and  fifty 
horse ;  the  Florentines  sent  a  hundred  under  Mar- 
canton  Colonna ;  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  another 
hundred  ;  stradioti  (a  kind  of  mounted  Greek 
mercenaries  used  by  Venice  for  the  most  part)  came 
from  Naples ;  and,  lastly,  two  hundred  light-horse 
were  led  by  Francesco  Gonzaga,  who  was  appointed 
commander-iii-chief  of  the  army. 

The  old  Bentivoglio  and  his  sons,  seeing  them- 
selves attacked  on  all  sides,  awaited  not  the  storm. 
When  they  heard  of  the  hostile  advance  of  the 
French,  they  fled  to  meet  them,  and  for  good  pay 
were  taken  under  their  protection.  The  people 
destroyed  and  plundered  their  palace.  Julius  en- 
tered the  city  with  a  splendid  escort.  The  citizens 
received  all  their  liberties  back  again.  The  pope 
came  as  the  liberator  of  Italy.  At  the  same  time, 
however,  he  took  the  necessary  measures  to  keep 
Bologna  thoroughly  papal.  He  established  himself 
there  for  a  time,  and  looked  around  him.  The 
Venetians'  turn  came  next.  For  the  moment,  how- 
ever, matters  rested;  and  leisure  was  found  for 
remembering  art  and  Michael  Angelo. 

While  the  pope  was  carrying  on  war,  the  latter  had 


288  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

been  progressing  in  his  cartoon  in  Florence,  and 
had  completed  it.  The  contests  with  Pisa  completely 
claimed  the  public  interest  at  that  time.  Michael 
Angelo  had  chosen  his  subject  from  the  sphere  of  the 
war,  which  had  for  centuries  continued  between 
the  two  cities.  About  the  time  in  which  Salvestro 
dei  Medici  lived,  there  came  to  Italy  an  English 
enterpriser  named  Hawkwood,  —  or  Aguto  by  the 
Italians,  —  a  famous  and  brave  man,  whose  monu- 
ment is  still  to  be  seen  in  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore. 
He  interfered  in  the  contests  of  his  time  ;  the  work, 
and  not  the  cause  which  he  served,  signified  to  him. 
Before  he  had  joined  the  Florentines,  he  had  waged 
war  against  them  in  the  pay  of  the  Pisans;  and,  dur- 
ing this  period  of  his  activity,  the  incident  occurred 
which  Michael  Angelo  has  represented. 

The  armies  stood  opposite  to  each  other  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Pisa.  It  was  very  warm ;  the  Flor- 
entines laid  aside  their  armor,  and  bathed  in  the 
Arnb.  Aguto  used  this  opportunity  for  an  attack. 
Manno  Donati,  however,  hastened  forward  in  due 
time,  and  announced  the  threatening  danger.  The 
bathers  rushed  to  the  shore,  and  to  their  arms,  — 
young  and  old  promiscuously.  This  was  the  mo- 
ment which  Michael  Angelo  seized.  Some  could 
not  get  their  wet  limbs  into  the  clinging  garments ; 
others  had  their  armor  already  on,  and  were  buck- 
ling fast  the  leather  straps.  We  see  one  just 
scrambling  up  the  bank,  supporting  himself  on  both 
arms,  and  looking  into  the  distance.  The  whole 
figure  is  visible  in  its  wonderful  attitude,  with  the 
back  turned  towards  us.  Another,  who  is  already 


THE  CARTOON  OF  THE  BATHING  SOLDIERS.    289 

occupied  with  his  garments,  suspends  the  action  of 
pulling  them  on  for  a  moment,  and,  turning  his  head 
round  in  the  direction  where  danger  threatens,  he 
points  to  it.*  One,  again,  who  is  still  quite  naked, 
is  kneeling  on  the  top  of  the  bank,  and  stretching 
his  left  arm  deeply  down  towards  another  arm, 
which  rises  from  the  waters  with  the  fingers  moving 
imploringly.  With  his  right  arm  and  his  knees  he 
'is  endeavoring  to  afford  resistance  above.  It  is  not 
possible  to  describe  all  the  separate  figures,  the  fore- 
shortenings,  the  boldness  with  which  the  most  diffi- 
cult attitude  is  ever  chosen,  or  the  art  with  which  it 
is  depicted.  This  cartoon  was  the  school  for  a  whole 
generation  of  artists,  who  made  their  first  studies 
from  it. 

It  was  never  finished.  There  exists  at  the  present 
day  nothing  but  a  copy  of  small  size,  which  only 
shows  the  position  of  the  figures  generally.  Some 
figures,  011  the  other  hand,  forming  a  group,  hare 
been  engraved  by  Marc  Anton.  It  is  one  of  his 
finest  plates,  and  allows  us  well  to  surmise  what  a 
splendid  work  the  cartoon  must  have  been.  A 
second  engraving,  giving  another  and  greater  part 
of  the  whole,  is  by  Agostino  Veneziano,  Marc  Anton's 
pupil.  But,  whilst  the  former  plate  might  have  been 
drawn  after  the  original  in  the  year  1510,  we  know 
not,  as  regards  the  latter,  where  the  drawing  comes 
from.  As  a  peculiarity  of  composition,  the  old 
Florentine  mannerism  is  conspicuous,  representing 
rather  a  vast  throng  than  a  symmetrically  organized 
arrangement  from  a  centre.  The  beauty  of  the 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLIV. 

VOL.   V.  13  8 


290  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

work,  apart  from  its  intellectual  significance,  lay  in 
the  abundance  of  attitudes  in  which  the  uncovered 
bodies  are  exhibited.  Leonardo  had  long  ago  pro- 
duced great  things ;  anatomy  and  the  study  of  fore- 
shortenings  had  been  carried  on  by  him  with  mas- 
terly power  before  Michael  Angelo's  appearance ; 
still,  he  must  have  seen  himself  now  far  surpassed 
by  the  latter. 

Opinions  were  naturally  divided  in  Florence. 
The  two  masters  were  disputed  for  and  against  with 
violence.  If  a  great  power  once  excites  the  feeling 
that  it  can  be  unhesitatingly  relied  on,  a  party  is  at 
once  formed  round  it.  The  cartoon  must  have 
given  the  friends  of  Michael  Angelo  this  necessary 
feeling  of  security.  He  stood  no  longer  alone  op- 
posed to  Leonardo's  school ;  and  he  had  fortune  on 
his  side. 

It  fared  ill  with  Leonardo's  painting  in  the  hall 
of  the  palace,  to  which  he  applied  oils,  instead  of 
painting  al  fresco.  The  composition  with  which  the 
wall  had  been  prepared  by  him  for  this  purpose  did 
not  stand ;  the  work  perished  under  his  hands. 
Added  to  this,  the  project  failed,  of  digging  a  new 
bed  for  the  Arno,  and  thus  compelling  the  Pisans 
to  surrender,  by  turning  aside  the  river  that  inter- 
sected their  city.  Two  thousand  workmen  had 
been  employed ;  at  last  it  turned  out  that  errors 
had  been  made  in  the  levelling.  Leonardo  had,  it 
seems,  taken  part  in  this.  Points  of  irritability 
between  him  and  Soderini  made  life  in  Florence 
thoroughly  uncomfortable.  He  had  sent  for  his  pay, 
and  had  received  nothing  but  packets  of  copper 


LEONARDO   LEAVES    FLORENCE.  291 

pieces.  With  a  proud  reply,  he  sent  the  money 
back :  he  was  not  a  painter  to  be  paid  with  three- 
penny-pieces. It  reached  such  a  pitch,  that  the 
gonfalonier  uttered  the  reproach,  that  Leonardo 
had  received  money  without  producing  work.  The 
latter  now  brought  a  sum,  corresponding  to  what 
he  had  ever  received,  and  placed  it  at  the  disposal 
of  Soderini,  who  declined  receiving  it.  Pressing 
invitations  came,  on  the  other  hand,  from  Milan. 
Leonardo  asked  for  leave  of  absence,  went  away 
from  Florence  without  having  finished  his  painting, 
and  returned  to  the  old  scene  of  his  fame,  where  he 
was  splendidly  received  by  the  viceroy  of  the  King 
of  France.  The  invitations  of  Soderini,  to  return 
and  fulfil  the  promises  entered  upon,  were  met  by 
that  noble  himself  with  the  most  courteous  refusals. 
Leonardo  received  the  title  of  Painter  to  His  Most 
Christian,  Majesty ;  and  returning  once  more  to 
Florence,  in  the  year  1507,  in  this  capacity,  he 
arranged  his  affairs,  and  repaired  to  France,  whither 
his  new  master  had  called  him.  The  gonfalonier 
could  only  show  himself  opposed  to  such  wishes. 
Leonardo's  picture  in  the  hall  of  the  palace  was 
never  finished ;  and  the  part  that  was  completed 
gradually  perished.* 

Michael  Angelo  remained  master  of  the  battle- 
field ;  but  he,  too,  was  now  called  away  from  Florence 
by  the  will  of  the  pope.  Scarcely  was  Bologna 
taken,  in  November,  1506,  than  a  letter  arrived  from 
the  Cardinal  of  Pavia,  stating  that  the  Signiory  of 
Florence  would  do  his  Holiness  a  great  favor  if  they 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLV. 


292  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

would  at  once  send  Michael  Angelo  to  Bologna,  and 
that  he  should  have  nothing  to  complain  of  as  to 
the  reception  awaiting  him.  A  week  afterwards, 
Michael  Angelo  set  out,  provided  with  an  extraordi- 
nary letter  of  recommendation  from  the  gonfalonier 
to  his  brother,  the  Bishop  of  Vol terra.  "  We  can 
assure  you,"  he  says,  "  that  Michael  Angelo  is  a  dis- 
tinguished man ;  the  first  of  his  art  in  Italy,  indeed 
perhaps  in  the  whole  world.  We  cannot  recommend 
him  to  you  sufficiently  urgently :  kind  words  and 
gentle  treatment  can  gain  any  thing  from  him.  It 
is  only  necessary  to  let  him  see  that  he  is  loved,  and 
is  favorably  thought  of,  and  he  will  produce  aston- 
ishing works.  He  has  here  now  made  the  design 
for  a  picture,  which  will  be  quite  an  extraordinary 
work ;  he  is  likewise  occupied  with  twelve  apostles, 
each  nine  feet  high,  which  will  turn  out  a  beautiful 
thing.  Once  again  I  commend  him  to  you."  And 
in  conclusion :  "  Michael  Angelo  comes  relying  on 
our  given  word."  So  little,  therefore,  did  they 
trust  the  gentle  manner  of  the  pope. 

With  this  letter,  Michael  Angelo  received  a  second, 
of  a  more  energetic  character,  to  the  Cardinal  of 
Pavia.  He  remained  irresolute  to  the  very  last. 
Only  a  few  days  previous  to  the  date  of  that  letter, 
the  gonfalonier  had  written,  k%  that  he  hoped  to 
induce  Michael  Angelo  to  take  the  journey."  At 
the  end  of  the  month,  he  may  have  arrived  at 
Bologna. 

His  first  errand  was  to  San  Petronio,  to  hear  mass. 
Here  he  was  recognized  by  one  of  the  papal  servants, 
and  at  once  carried  to  his  Holiness.  Julius  sat  in 


MICHAEL  ANGELO  AT  BOLOGNA.        293 

the  palace  of  tho  Government,  at  table,  and  ordered 
Michael  Angelo  to  be  admitted.  At  the  sight  of 
him,  he  could  not,  however,  subdue  his  rising  anger. 
"  You  have  waited  thus  long,  it  seems,"  he  said 
harshly  to  him,  "  till  we  should  ourselves  come  to 
seek  you."  Bologna  lies  nearer  Florence  than  Rome 
does ;  and  the  pope,  if  he  meant  this,  had  come  to 
meet  Michael  Angelo. 

Michael  Angelo  kneeled  down,  and  begged  his 
Holiness  would  pardon  him.  He  had  remained 
away  from  no  evil  intention,  but  because  he  had  felt 
himself  offended.  It  had  been  insufferable  to  him 
to  be  driven  away  as  he  had  been.  Julius  looked 
down  gloomily,  and  gave  no  reply,  when  one  of  the 
ecclesiastics,  who  had  been  begged  by  Cardinal 
Soderini  to  interpose  if  necessary,  took  up  the  word. 
His  Holiness,  he  said,  must  not  measure  too  severely 
Michael  Angclo's  faults ;  he  was  a  man  of  no  educa- 
tion ;  artists  knew  little  how  they  ought  to  behave, 
except  where  their  own  art  was  concerned ;  they 
were  all  alike.  The  pope  now  turned  furiously 
towards  the  officious  mediator :  "Do  you  venture," 
he  exclaimed,  "  to  say  things  to  this  man,  which  I 
would  not  have  said  to  him  myself  ?  you  are  your- 
self a  man  of  no  education,  a  miserable  fellow,  and 
this  he  is  not.  Out  of  my  sight  with  your  awkward- 
ness!" And,  as  the  poor  man  stood  there  as  if 
stunned,  the  servants  were  obliged  to  carry  him  out 
into  the  hall.  Julius's  anger  was  satisfied  with  this. 
He  beckoned  graciously  to  Michael  Angelo,  and  gave 
him  his  pardon.  He  was  not  to  leave  Bologna  again, 
until  he  had  received  his  instructions. 


294  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Giuliano  di  San  Gallo  was  with  the  pope  in 
Bologna.  Perhaps  Michael  Angelo  owed  it  to  the 
influence  of  this  man,  that  the  favor  of  the  holy 
father  was  awarded  to  him  again  unimpaired.  San 
Gallo  suggested  to  Julius  to  have  a  colossal  bronze 
statue  erected  in  Bologna.  Michael  Angelo  received 
orders  to  execute  it.  The  pope  wished  to  know  the 
cost  of  it.  It  was  not  his  trade,  replied  Michael 
Angelo,  yet  he  thought  he  could  furnish  it  for  three 
thoiisand  ducats.  Whether  the  cast,  however,  would 
succeed,  he  could  not  promise.  "  You  will  mould  it 
until  it  succeeds,"  answered  the  pope ;  "  and  you 
shall  be  paid  as  much  as  you  require."  The  three 
thousand  ducats  were  assigned  to  him  at  once,  and 
Michael  Angelo  set  himself  to  work. 

Respecting  none  of  his  works  have  we  so  much 
information  from  his  own  hand.  The  intercourse 
between  him  and  Florence  was  lively ;  and  a  great 
part  of  this  correspondence  may  now  be  read  in  the 
British  Museum. 

The  first  letter  is  dated  the  19th  December,  1506 ;  * 
written,  therefore,  a  few  weeks  after  his  arrival,  and 
this  to  his  favorite  brother,  two  years  younger  than 
himself,  who,  according  to  a  custom  in  the  family, 
bore  the  name  Buonarroto  as  a  Christian  surname. 
Michael  Angelo  begs  him  to  tell  Piero  Orlandini  (a 
Florentine,  respecting  whom  I  know  nothing  fur- 
ther), that  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  execute  the 
dagger-blade  ordered.  Orlandini  wished  to  have 
something  quite  extraordinary;  but,  in  the  first 
place,  the  commission,  he  says,  does  not  lie  within 

«  See  Appendix,  Note  XL VI. 


CORRESPONDENCE    WITH   HIS   BROTHER.  295 

his  art ;  and,  in  the  second,  he  lacks  the  time  to  exe- 
cute it.  Yet  the  blade  was  to  be  procured  within 
a  month,  and  that  as  good  as  it  is  to  be  had  in 
Bologna.  Inlaid  sword  and  dagger-blades  were,  at 
that  time,  like  costly  suits  of  mail,  the  necessary 
possession  of  a  rich  noble ;  and  great  sums  were 
expended  on  them.  These  blades  were  worked  in 
different  patterns  ;  in  Lombardy,  the  goldsmiths  im- 
itated the  ivy  and  vine  in  their  shoots  and  tendrils  ; 
in  Rome,  the  acanthus  ;  and  other  plants,  again, 
are  to  be  seen  in  the  arabesques  of  the  Turkish 
dagger. 

Michael  Angelo  hoped  at  that  time,  as  early  as 
Easter,  1507,  to  have  finished  in  Bologna,  and  to 
return  to  Florence. 

The  letter  exhibits  him  as  the  true  centre  of  his 
family.  Buonarroto  had  written  to  him  about  Gio- 
vansimone,  a  brother  about  a  year  and  a  half 
younger,  who,  it  seems,  was  just  starting  on  a 
definite  career.  Michael  Angelo  replied,  that  he 
rejoiced  that  Giovansimone  exhibited  good  intentions 
in  the  shop  with  Buonarroto.  He  would  always 
assist  him,  and  all  of  them,  if  God  enabled  him  to  do 
so  ;  and  would  fulfil  what  he  had  promised.  If  Gio- 
vansimone, however,  entertained  the  idea  of  coming 
to  seek  him  in  Bologna,  he  must  seriously  dissuade 
him  from  doing  so.  His  dwelling  was  mean ;  he 
had  only  a  single  bed  in  it,  in  which  they  slept  four. 
Giovansimone  must  have  patience  till  the  cast  was 
finished ;  he  would  then  send  a  horse  to  him,  and 
fetch  him.  Until  then  they  must  pray  God  that  all 
should  have  good  success.  This  is  the  usual  con- 


296  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

elusion  to  his  letters ;  but  it  is  no  mere  phrase,  as  is 
evident  in  other  places.  Somewhat  strange  does  it 
sound,  this  sending  for  a  brother,  who  at  that  time 
numbered  about  twenty-eight  years.  I  could  almost 
suppose,  without  doing  injury  to  the  memory  of  a 
name  not  intended  to  be  immortalized,  that  it  had 
been  designed  by  fate,  as  may  be  often  observed  in 
similar  cases,  to  compensate  for  Michael  Angelo's 
extraordinary  gifts  by  a  corresponding  lack  of  them 
in  the  family. 

A  considerable  part  of  the  three  thousand  ducats 
was  at  once  sent  away  to  Florence.  This  was  sub- 
sequently the  whole  payment  received,  although 
Michael  Angelo  thought  himself  entitled  to  strong 
after-claims  on  the  pope.  On  the  22d  January, 
1507,  Michael  Angelo  was  already  answering  a  letter 
of  Buonarroto's,  in  which  the  latter  had  informed 
him  of  the  purchase  of  a  piece  of  ground  by  his 
father.  Giovansimone  persists  in  coming  to  Bologna ; 
Michael  Angelo  again  refuses ;  he  must  complete 
his  cast  first.  In  mid-Lent  he  hopes  certainly  to 
have  arrived  so  far ;  in  Easter  he  goes  to  Florence. 
The  dagger-blade  for  Orlandini  has  been  ordered  of 
the  best  master  in  Bologna ;  if  it  does  not  turn  out 
good,  he  will  have  it  made  again.* 

Such  were  the  things  which  incidentally  filled 
Michael  Angelo's  mind  while  he  worked  at  the 
model  for  the  statue.  The  pope  must  have  sat  to 
him  occasionally.  How  different  the  thoughts  which 
passed  through  Julius's  soul  during  this  time !  He 
was  transacting  at  Bologna  the  alliance  with  France 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLVII. 


DEPARTURE  OF  THE  POPE  FROM  BOLOGNA.    297 

against  the  Venetians.  He  desired  to  have  back  the 
entire  Romagna.  The  king  now  showed  himself 
more  inclined.  Philip  of  Burgundy  had  suddenly 
died  in  Castile.  Maximilian's  plans  of  attacking 
Italy,  and  of  appearing  as  lord  and  emperor,  sup- 
ported by  Castile,  lost  their  terror.  Louis  could 
venture  to  think  of  advancing  against  Venice,  and 
of  taking  from  the  republic  the  parts  of  the  Milanese 
territory  which  it  had  taken  possession  of.  A  meet- 
ing between  him  and  the  pope  in  Bologna  was 
arranged,  in  which  the  details  were  to  be  agreed 
upon  by  word  of  mouth. 

Very  different  things,  however,  now  reached  the 
ears  of  the  pope.  Genoa  had  risen  against  the  King 
of  France.  The  people  had  driven  the  nobles,  who 
were  supported  by  him,  together  with  the  French 
garrison,  from  the  walls.  As  an  old  imperial  fief, 
they  had  raised  the  standard  of  the  imperial  eagle, 
and  had  placed  themselves  under  the  protection  of 
Maximilian.  Julius,  by  birth  a  Genoese,  by  inclina- 
tion a  democrat,  having  even  appeared  in  Bologna 
as  protector  of  the  people  against  the  oppression  of 
the  nobles,  secretly  supported  the  insurrectionists. 
He  urged  the  king  to  an  accommodation,  instead  of 
taking  violent  steps  against  the  city.  He  now  heard 
that  Louis,  under  cover  of  reducing  Genoa  to  obe- 
dience, was  making  extensive  preparations,  the  true 
aim  of  which  was  a  vigorous  expedition  to  Italy. 
Tuscany  was  to  be  taken ;  a  council  was  then  to 
meet  in  Pisa ;  and  the  Cardinal  d'Amboise  was  to 
come  forth  from  it  as  pope.  These  tidings,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  report  that  Maximilian  was  acting 

13* 


298  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

partly  in  concert  with  Louis,  were  transmitted  by 
the  Venetians  to  Bologna. 

Julius  at  once  united  with  them.  Mutual  steps 
with  the  emperor  were  agreed  upon,  to  obtain  pro- 
tection against  France.  On  account  of  the  threat- 
ening council,  the  pope's  presence  in  Rome  seemed 
necessary.  The  Cardinal  di  San  Vitale  was  appoint- 
ed legate  in  Bologna ;  Julius  laid  the  foundation- 
stone  of  the  new  citadel  which  he  intended  to  build, 
and  withdrew  to  Rome  at  the  end  of  February,  1507. 
As  a  pretext  for  this,  he  made  his  physicians  assert 
that  the  air  of  Bologna  was  not  good  for  him.  He 
was  also  obliged  to  leave,  they  maintained,  because 
the  revenues  were  discontinued  in  Rome  when  he 
was  not  there  in  person. 

Before  he  set  out,  he  saw  Michael  Angelo's  model 
once  more.  "  Last  Friday  the  pope  was  with  me  in 
the  atelier,"  he  says,  in  a  letter  dated  the  1st  Febru- 
ary. "  He  gave  me  to  understand  that  the  work 
met  with  his  approval.  God  grant  it  may  turn  out 
well ;  for,  if  so,  I  hope  to  gain  great  favor  with  the 
pope.  He  is  going  to  leave  Bologna  during  this 
carnival  ;  at  least  it  is  so  rumored.  I  will  send 
the  blade  by  a  safe  opportunity  as  soon  as  it  is 
ready." 

Michael  Angelo  had  represented  the  pope  in  a 
sitting  attitude,  three  times  as  large  as  life.  His 
right  hand  was  raised ;  with  regard  to  his  left,  it 
was  a  matter  for  consideration  what  might  bo  best 
placed  in  it.  "  Your  Holiness,  perhaps,  might  like 
a  book?" — "  Give  me  a  sword  in  it,"  exclaimed  the 
pope;  "I  am  no  scholar.  And  what  does  the  raised 


JULIUS   AT   OSTIA.  299 

right  hand  denote?"  inquired  Julius;  "am  I  dis- 
pensing a  curse  or  a  blessing  ? "  It  was  customary, 
in  representations  of  the  Last  Judgment,  that  Christ 
as  judge,  with  his  right  hand  raised,  should  form 
the  centre  of  the  picture.  The  pope  might  have 
remembered  this.  "  You  are  advising  the  people 
of  Bologna  to  be  wise,"  replied  Michael  Angelo,  and 
took  farewell  of  his  master,  who,  on  Palm  Sunday, 
again  entered  Rome,  where  he  was  received  with 
great  festivities.  In  front  of  the  Vatican  stood  a 
triumphal  arch,  an  imitation  of  the  arch  of  Constau- 
tine  at  the  Coliseum,  the  inscription  on  which  hailed 
him  as  conqueror  and  liberator. 

Genoa,  where  the  lowest  class  of  the  people  were 
masters,  was  now  encouraged  to  hold  her  ground. 
The  pope  had  hoped  to  draw  Ferdinand  of  Aragon 
over  to  his  side.  He  had  at  that  time  gone  to 
Naples,  because  Philip  of  Castile  had  called  upon 
Gonsalvo,  the  viceroy,  to  refuse  obedience  to  the 
King  of  Aragon,  and  to  deliver  over  the  kingdom 
rather  to  himself.  Gonsalvo  thought,  after  Philip's 
death,  to  retain  Naples  for  himself;  but  he  swore 
allegiance  to  Ferdinand  when  the  latter  appeared  in 
person,  and  followed  him  to  Spain.  Julius  thought 
to  have  seen  the  king  at  Ostia,  where  the  Spanish 
galleys  had  to  pass  by.  He  had,  it  is  true,  as  the 
bestower  of  the  investiture  of  Naples,  incited  Gon- 
salvo  to  revolt,  and  to  make  common  cause  with 
himself;  in  spite  of  this,  he  now  wished  to  treat 
with  Ferdinand.  The  latter,  however,  sailed  on, 
without  landing,  to  Savona,  where  he  met  Louis, 
who  came  victoriously  from  Genoa.  The  pope  sent 


300  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  Cardinal  of  Pavia  to  Savona;  but,  he  was  not 
admitted  to  the  secret  negotiations  there.  This  only 
he  brought  with  him  back  to  Rome,  that  the  two 
sovereigns  were  on  the  most  intimate  footing  with 
each  other,  and  that  the  feared  Cardinal  d'Amboise 
was  the  only  third  person  present  at  their  negotia- 
tions. 

We  must  here  observe,  that,  with  regard  to  Naples, 
there  had  been  for  a  long  time  an  understanding 
between  Aragon  and  France.  The  barons  in  favor 
of  France  had  returned,  and  received  back  their 
possessions;  Naples  remained  to  Ferdinand,  who, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  married  a  French  princess, 
old  as  he  was,  and  gave  compensation  in  ready 
money. 

The  collision  of  interests  between  France  and 
Maximilian  saved  the  pope.  Both  were  opposed  to 
Venice ;  they  were  united  as  regarded  Burgundy 
and  Castile,  where  Maximilian  claimed  the  govern- 
ment in  the  name  of  his  grandson,  while  Ferdinand 
raised  pretensions  to  it;  but  the  fact  that  Louis's 
final  aim  was  the  empire  for  himself,  and  the  papal 
dignity  for  Amboise,  while  Maximilian  conceived 
the  strange  idea  of  not  only  being  crowned  as  empe- 
ror in  Rome,  but  of  becoming  himself  pope  there  at 
the  same  time,  made  agreement  impossible.  Julius 
negotiated  constantly  with  both ;  he  hated  them 
equally,  and  would  have  liked,  best  of  all,  if  they 
had  destroyed  each  other  for  the  advantage  of  Italy. 
He  always  demanded  help  from  the  one  when  the 
other  threatened;  he  always,  nevertheless,  resisted 
when  one  of  the  two  wished  to  appear  in  arms  in 


THE  CAST  OP  THE  STATUE  IN  BOLOGNA.    301 

his  defence.  Whilst  he  was  endeavoring  to  negotiate 
in  Savona  through  the  Cardinal  of  Pavia,  he  sent 
another  cardinal  to  the  diet  at  Costnitz,  which  Maxi- 
milian had  convoked,  because  he  needed  money  and 
soldiers  for  the  Italian  campaign. 

These  events  occupied  Julius  during  the  summer 
of  1507.  The  probability  which  Michael  Angelo  had 
foretold,  had  happened  meanwhile  to  his  work, — 
the  cast  had  failed.  From  the  first  he  had  had 
disappointments  in  his  work.  In  that  letter  which 
mentions  the  pope's  visit  to  him,  he  alludes  at  the 
conclusion  to  vexations  caused  him  by  his  men. 
"  If  Lapo,"  he  writes,  "  and  Ludovico,  who  were 
here  in  my  service,  should  say  any  thing  to  my 
father,  tell  him  he  must  not  trouble  himself  with 
what  they  state,  especially  with  what  Lapo  brings 
forward,  and  must  be  disturbed  by  nothing.  As 
soon  as  I  have  time  to  write,  I  will  explain  all  to 
him."  * 

In  spite  of  this,  that  occurred  which  he  had 
wished  to  prevent;  for  a  letter  addressed  to  his 
father  on  the  8th  February  shows  that  the  latter  had 
not  only  lent  a  willing  ear  to  the  complaints  of  the 
two  dismissed  men,  but  had  also  taken  his  son  to 
task  on  the  matter.  Michael  Angelo  now  states  the 
facts.  At  first  he  upbraids  his  father  in  a  letter 
addressed  to  Granacci,  which  he  is  to  let  him  see  ; 
in  a  postscript,  however,  he  returns  again  to  the 
matter,  as  is  often  the  case  with  him,  and  relates 
how  Lapo  had  wished  to  deceive  him  in  the  purchase 
of  a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  of  wax.  f 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XLVIII.  t  Ibid.,  Note  XLIX. 


302  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

This  statement  affords  a  glimpse  into  the  state  of 
the  work.  It  shows  that  the  cast  of  the  statue  was 
at  that  time  in  course  of  preparation.  The  first 
thing  required  for  this  was  a  clay  model.  When 
this  was  dry,  whatever  had  disappeared  in  this  man 
ner  was  supplied  by  a  coating  of  wax,  until  the 
model  again  assumed  its  old  form;  and  over  this 
was  placed  a  coat  of  clay.  When  this  was  well  dry 
and  firm,  the  whole  was  heated,  the  clay  absorbed 
the  liquid  wax,  and  the  vacant  hollow  space  sur- 
rounding the  whole  figure  received  the  metal. 
This  is  the  more  simple  plan  which  Benvenuto 
Cellini  specifies.  He,  as  well  as  Vasari,  mentions 
the  more  complicated  method  also. 

Michael  Angelo,  however,  did  not  trust  the  cast 
to  his  own  hand.  A  great  deal  of  experience  was 
required  for  this,  such  as  only  the  work  of  years 
could  give ;  and  the  matter  was  this  time  too  im- 
portant to  venture  an  attempt.  Michael  Angelo 
applied  to  the  Government  of  Florence,  and  re- 
quested the  assistance  of  Messer  Bernardino,  who 
superintended  the  gunnery  of  the  republic.  As  the 
honor  of  the  city,  both  as  regarded  the  pope  and 
the  Bolognese  artists,  was  at  stake,  such  a  request 
could  be  well  made.  On  the  30th  April  he  writes, 
however,  to  his  brother,  that  he  must  let  the  Gov- 
ernment know  that  he  has  engaged  a  Frenchman,  as 
no  answer  had  arrived  to  his  demand,  and  he  had 
hence  concluded  that  Messer  Bernardino  had  proba- 
bly not  liked  to  come  for  fear  of  the  plague.  It 
would  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  wait  longer, 
and  to  remain  doing  nothing. 


THE  CAST  OP  THE  STATUE  IN  BOLOGNA.    303 

Four  weeks  after,  however,  the  gunnery  inspector 
arrived ;  and,  at  the  beginning  of  June,  the  cast 
was  undertaken  under  his  direction. 

The  result  was  not  satisfactory. 

"  Buonarroti "  (thus  the  letter  begins  which  announces 
this),  —  "You  must  know  that  we  have  cast  my  figure,  and 
been  unsuccessful  in  it,  as  Messer  Bernardino,  whether 
from  want  of  experience  or  because  an  unfavorable  fate 
so  willed  it,  had  not  sufficiently  melted  the  metal.  I  could 
write  a  long  story  about  it :  it  is,  however,  enough  to  say 
that  the  figure  has  only  reached  the  girdle,  and  the  rest  of 
the  metal  —  that  is,  the  other  half  —  was  left  sticking  in 
the  stove  because  it  was  not  fluid,  so  that  I  was  obliged  to 
break  the  stove  to  obtain  it.  This,  as  well  as  the  restora- 
tion of  the  mould,  will  be  undertaken  this  week ;  and  we 
hope  to  bring  every  thing  into  order  again,  though  not 
without  great  labor,  effort,  and  expense.  I  was  so  certain 
of  my  master,  that  I  would  have  trusted  Messer  Bernar- 
dino, had  he  melted  the  metal  without  a  fire.  I  will  not 
say,  though,  that  he  is  a  bad  master,  and  had  not  real 
interest  in  it ;  but  that  '  to  err  is  human '  has  been  realized 
in  him,  in  this  instance,  to  my  own  and  his  great  detri- 
ment. For  they  have  talked  of  him  here  in  such  a 
manner,  that  he  can  scarcely  show  himself  before  the 
people. 

"Read  this  letter  to  Baccio  d'Agnolo,  when  you  see 
him,  and  request  him  to  give  an  account  of  it  to  San  Gallo 
in  Rome.  Remember  me  to  him,  and  to  Giovanni  da 
Ricasoli  and  Granaccio.  If  all  now  spoeds  well,  I  hope 
to  be  ready  in  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  and  to  come  to 
Florence  ;  if  it  does  not  succeed,  I  must  again  begin  from 
the  beginning.  I  will  let  you  hear.  Tell  me  how  Giovan- 
fiimoue  gets  on.  The  enclosed  is  a  letter  to  Giuliano  da 


304  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

San  Gallo  at  Rome.     Send  it  to  him  as  safely  and  quickly 
as  possible ;  or,  if  he  is  in  Florence,  give  it  to  hin."  * 

The  renewed  work  lasted  till  August.  Michael 
Angelo  was  obliged  to  pay  the  gunnery  inspector 
thirty  ducats  a  month  from  his  own  pocket.  The 
cast  succeeded  admirably  the  second  time.  He 
writes  in  October,  well  contented  at  the  state  of 
things,  that  he  hopes  now  very  soon  to  come  to  an 
end,  and  to  gain  great  honor.f  In  November,  the 
gloomy  mood  again  gets  the  better  of  him.  Buonar- 
roto  had  desired  Michael  Angelo's  speedy  return, 
on  accoimt  of  family  affairs.  He  himself,  he  replies, 
wishes  even  more  than  they  that  he  could  come. 
"  I  am  here,"  these  are  his  words,  "  in  the  most 
unpleasant  position.  If  I  had  a  second  time  to 
undertake  this  intense  work,  which  gives  me  no  rest 
night  or  day,  I  scarcely  think  I  should  be  able  to 
accomplish  it.  I  am  convinced,  that  no  one  else 
upon  whom  this  immense  task  might  have  been 
imposed,  would  have  persevered.  My  belief  is,  that 
your  prayers  have  kept  me  sustained  and  well.  For 
no  one  in  Bologna,  not  even  after  the  successful 
issue  of  the  cast,  thought  that  I  should  finish  the 
statue  satisfactorily ;  before  that,  no  one  thought 
that  the  cast  would  succeed.  I  have  now  brought  it 
to  a  certain  point.  I  shall  not,  however,  complete 
it  this  month ;  but,  at  any  rate,  in  the  next,  and 
then  I  will  come.  Till  then,  be  of  good  cheer ;  I 
will  keep  to  what  I  have  promised.  Assure  my 
father  and  Giovansimone  of  tliis  in  my  name,  and 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  L.  t  Ibid.,  Ncte  LI. 


INSURRECTIONARY   MOVEMENT   AT   BOLOGNA.        305 

•write  and  tell  me  how  Giovansimone  gets  on ;  learn 
accurately,  and  take  trouble  in  the  business,  that 
you  may  have  the  experience  necessary,  when  it  is 
required ;  and  that  will  soon  be  the  case." 

The  following  letter  of  the  20th  December  con- 
tains the  request  to  forward  to  Rome,  quickly  and 
securely,  a  letter  enclosed,  addressed  to  the  Cardinal 
of  Pavia ;  for  he  could  not  leave  Bologna  withou  t 
having  an  answer  to  it.*  On  the  5th  January,  1508, 
he  thanks  for  the  punctual  attention  to  his  wish. 
He  hopes  to  set  out  in  a  fortnight :  it  seems  to  him 
a  thousand  years  till  that  time ;  for  his  position  is  of 
such  a  nature,  that,  if  Buonarroto  were  to  see  him, 
he  would  be  sorry  for  him.  This  is  the  last  letter 
from  Bologna.f 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  what  he  had  to 
communicate  to  the  Cardinal  Alidosi ;  for  the  latter 
soon  after  arrived  in  Bologna,  and  that  in  conse- 
quence of  events  which  made  the  winter  a  period  of 
great  commotion  there.  The  Bentivogli,  who  were 
settled  in  Milan,  and  their  adherents  in  Bologna, 
had  done  all  they  could  to  obtain  their  lost  dominion 
back  again.  As  France  —  who  had  in  no  wise  pub- 
licly broken  with  Julius  —  did  not  allow  them  to 
carry  on  their  plans  openly,  they  had  recourse  to 
secret  means.  They  attempted  to  poison  the  pope. 
They  secretly  levied  troops,  and  preconcerted  an 
attack  with  their  adherents  in  the  city.  Above  all 
they  desired  to  avenge  themselves  on  the  Marescotti 
their  bitterest  foes,  who  had  given  the  signal  for 
setting  fire  to  the  palace.  They  relied  upon  the 

«  See  Appendix,  Note  LII.  t  Tbid.,  Note  LIH. 

T 


306  LIFE    OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

people,  because  the  legate  made  himself  insufferable 
by  his  covetousness.  This  Cardinal  of  San  Vitale 
had  been  raised  to  his  high  position  from  the  lowest 
class,  only  because  he  was  a  countryman  of  the 
pope's,  and  was  his  willing  servant. 

At  the  beginning  of  1508,  the  conspiracy  was  to 
break  out.  The  machinations  of  the  Bentivogli, 
however,  were  not  unobserved.  The  Marcscotti,  who 
had  most  to  fear,  had  been  the  most  keen-sighted. 
They  saw  what  was  approaching.  Hercole  Mares- 
cotti  went  to  Rome  to  beg  the  pope  to  take  special 
measures  for  the  protection  of  his  party.  Haste  was 
now  necessary.  The  palace  of  the  Marescotti  was 
surrounded  by  night.  They  declared  that  they 
would  murder  whoever  they  found  there,  and  then 
admit  the  Bentivogli  into  the  city.  But  the  men, 
women,  and  children,  thus  surprised  in  their  sleep, 
fled  half-naked  over  the  roofs  of  the  adjacent  houses ; 
two  servants  only  were  seized,  and  put  to  the  sword. 
Then,  with  two  cannons,  which  they  found  in  the 
palace,  the  rebels  withdrew  to  one  of  the  fortified 
gates  of  the  city,  —  city  gates  were  at  that  time 
always  small  citadels, —  and  placed  themselves  in  a 
state  of  defence. 

There  were  no  papal  troops  in  the  city.  Only  in 
the  rarest  cases  did  the  citizens  of  a  city,  at  that 
time,  allow  the  entrance  of  levied  forces  within  their 
walls,  —  not  even  those  whom  they  themselves  paid. 
The  citadel  of  the  pope  was  still  unfinished.  The 
cardinal  knew  no  longer  what  to  do.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  senate  treated  with  the  rebels,  who  had 
waited  in  vain  for  the  Bentivogli,  and  had  withdrawn 


ERECTION   OF  THE   STATUE.  307 

at  length  to  their  homes  from  their  position  at  the 
gate. 

The  pope  issued  a  pardon  to  all  from  Rome, 
recalled  San  Yitale,  took  from  him  the  sums  he  had 
extorted,  and  put  him  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo. 
The  Cardinal  of  Pavia,  Francesco  Alidosi, — feared 
as  much  as  Julius  himself  was,  and  equally  power- 
ful, and  still  more  avaricious  than  his  predecessor, — 
arrived  at  Bologna  as  the  new  appointed  legate. 
He  placed  eight  hundred  men  in  the  city ;  hastened 
forward  the  building  of  the  citadel ;  had  the  palace 
of  the  Marescotti  restored  at  the  public  expense,  and 
a  number  of  citizens  beheaded  on  the  market-place 
after  a  short  trial.  Such  was  the  state  of  things  at 
Bologna  at  the  time  that  the  statue  of  Julius  was 
ready  to  be  placed  at  the  principal  portal  of  San 
Petronio.  This  occurred  on  the  21st  February, 
1508.  The  unveiling  proceeded  amid  ringing  of 
bells,  sounding  of  trumpets,  pipes,  drums,  and  cries 
of  the  people.  The  day  concluded  with  illumina- 
tions, fireworks,  and  festivities.  The  pope  held  in 
his  left  hand  neither  sword  nor  book,  but  the  keys 
of  St.  Peter. 

The  portal  at  which  the  statue  stood,  the  central 
one  of  the  three  Gothic  doors  which  adorned  the 
unfinished  facade  of  the  church,  was  the  work  of 
Jacopo  della  Qiiercia,  one  of  the  competitors  for  the 
doors  of  San  Giovanni.  When  Ghiberti  carried  off 
the  prize,  Jacopo  went  to  Bologna,  where,  .through 
the  intercession  of  Giovanni  Bentivogli,  the  gate  of 
San  Petronio  was  assigned  to  him.  He  received 
three  thousand  gold  florins  for  the  work,  and  marble 


308  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

free  of  charge.  Thus,  throughout  Italy,  Florentine 
work  met  everywhere  with  its  like. 

Michael  Angelo,  having  completed  his  work,  re- 
turned to  Florence.  We  know  not  with  whom  he 
was  most  intimate  in  Bologna,  while  he  was  at  work 
there ;  nothing  is  told  us  of  his  further  connection 
with  Messer  Aldovrandi.  Yet  we  find  the  latter 
mentioned  as  a  member  of  the  deputation  sent  by 
the  citizens  to  the  victorious  pope. 

It  may,  on  the  other  hand,  be  supposed  as  pretty 
certain,  that  Michael  Angelo  stood  on  no  better 
terms  this  time  with  the  artists  of  the  city,  whose 
envy  had  the  first  time  driven  him  away. 

Francesco  Francia,  the  famous  goldsmith,  painter, 
and  stamp-cutter,  was  the  head  of  the  Bolognese 
school.  He  came  to  Michael  Angelo  in  the  atelier, 
and  examined  the  statue.  Without  speaking  of  any 
thing  else,  he  only  mentioned  that  the  metal  was 
good.  "  If  it  is  good,"  replied  Michael  Angelo,  "  I 
owe  my  thanks  to  the  pope  for  it,  who  provided  me 
with  it,  just  as  you  do  to  the  merchant  of  whom  you 
buy  your  colors  for  your  pictures." 

Francia  —  a  cheerful,  hearty  man  who  gladly  ac- 
knowledged foreign  merit  —  may,  however,  from  the 
first  have  not  been  quite  unprejudiced  with  regard 
to  Michael  Angelo.  Party  jealously  was  perhaps  at 
work  in  Bologna.  As  a  friend  of  Perugino's,  with 
whom  he  was  allied  by  many  excellent  pupils  belong- 
ing to  them  both,  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  on  which 
side  he  stood.  And  this  is  strengthened  by  the  fact, 
that  he  subsequently  exhibited  himself  as  an  enthu- 
siastic friend  of  Raphael. 


MICHAEL   ANGELO    AND   PERUGINO.  309 

How  bitter  the  feeling  was  between  Michael 
Angelo  and  Perugino,  is  shown  by  an  incident  which 
I  will  mention  here,  because  the  time  in  which  it 
occurred  is  not  more  accurately  specified  by  Vasari. 
Perugino  had  expressed  himself  with  insulting  de- 
rision respecting  Michael  Angelo's  works ;  and  the 
latter  had  said,  in  consequence,  that  he  considered 
him  to  be  an  ignorant  man  in  matters  of  art.* 
Perugino  proceeded  to  law,  and  informed  against 
him ;  but  he  was  dismissed  with  his  complaint  in  a 
manner  which  was  more  painful  to  him  than  Michael 
Angelo's  words.  The  latter,  it  was  decreed,  was 
right ;  he  had  only  said  what  was  not  to  be  denied. 
Perugino,  since  about  the  year  1500,  after  having 
completed  some  excellent  works,  had  fallen  into  a 
flourishing  kind  of  painting,  which  made  such  a  re- 
proach all  the  more  applicable  to  him,  since,  adopting 
a  coarse,  technical  style,  he  derided  those  who,  work- 
ing more  laboriously  and  conscientiously,  endeavored 
to  surpass  him ;  or,  as  he  himself  conceived  the  mat- 
ter, who  aspired  to  undermine  his  well-won  reputa- 
tion. 

Michael  Angelo,  to  whom  art  was  the  highest 
thing  on  earth,  —  to  whom  its  degradation  for  the 
sake  of  gain  seemed  despicable,  —  must  have  felt  all 
the  more  deeply  shocked  at  the  sight  of  a  master 
who  was  able  to  produce  so  much  that  was  excellent, 
and  now,  instead  of  advancing,  retrograded.  And 
this,  not  because  urged  by  necessity,  but  because  he 
wished  to  increase  easily  and  quickly  what  he  had 
already  gained.  Vexation  at  the  humbling  result  of 

*  See  Appendix.  Note  LIV. 


310  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

his  trial  is  said  to  have  obliged  Perugino  at  that  time 
to  leave  the  city.  It  must  at  any  rate,  if  it  happened 
at  all,  have  been  only  for  a  short  time,  as  he  appears 
again  in  Florence  up  to  the  latest  period  of  his 
life. 

If  Francia's  connection  with  Perugino  was  the 
cause  of  his  ill-humor  with  Michael  Angelo,  the  lat- 
ter in  no  wise  seems  to  have  done  any  thing  to  make 
Francia  more  friendly  towards  him.  If  we  are  to 
believe  Vasari,  who  also  relates  the  coincidence 
above  mentioned,  matters  became  much  worse. 
According  to  him,  Michael  Angelo  in  the  first  place 
made  a  rude  reply  to  the  good  Francia,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  others ;  and,  secondly,  added  a  general  ver- 
dict upon  him  and  his  pupil  Costa,  more  degrading 
than  can  be  imagined.  Vasari  softens  the  expres- 
sions somewhat  in  the  second  edition  of  his  book, 
according  to  which  Michael  Angelo  is  said  only  to 
have  used  the  word  which  he  had  also  applied 
to  Perugino,  that  Francia  was  a  goffo,  —  a  great 
blockhead.  If  we  prefer,  however,  to  regard  the 
whole  matter  as  one  of  those  gossipping  stories, 
which  never  really  occurred  as  they  are  related,  the 
impression  still  remains,  that  Michael  Angelo  regard- 
lessly  expressed  his  opinion,  and  cared  little  whether 
he  did  so  in  rude  terms.  With  regard  to  Francia,  he 
seems,  however,  to  have  made  his  conduct  a  matter 
of  especial  conscientiousness.  He  sent  him  word 
through  his  son,  a  beautiful  boy,  that  his  living 
figures  succeeded  better  than  those  which  he  accom- 
plished in  his  pictures.  Condivi  also  relates  this.* 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LV. 


FRANCESCO    FRAXCIA.  311 

It  is  possible,  that  the  feeling  which  was  produced 
under  these  circumstances  had  some  share  in  the 
sad  fate  which  some  years  later  befell  the  work  of 
Michael  Angclo,  —  a  work  which  he  had  just  com- 
pleted with  such  great  trouble. 

For  it  seems  to  me,  that  Francia's  aversion  to 
Michael  Angelo,  and  the  equivocal  manner  in  which 
he  acknowledged  his  work,  were  the  result  of  political 
irritation.  The  Bentivogli  family  had  been  odious 
to  the  citizens ;  but  they  had  always  given  abundance 
of  employment  to  the  artists.  Francia  especially  had 
been  beloved  and  honored  by  them.  Now  their  pal- 
ace, in  which  he  had  himself  painted,  lay  in  ruins ; 
and  the  great  bell  of  his  tower  had  passed  into  the 
form  of  Michael  Angelo's  statue.  Francia,  who  had 
before  cut  the  .die  of  the  Bentivoglian  coins,  was 
now,  as  paid  master  of  the  mint,  obliged  to  cut  the 
coins  on  which  was  Julius's  head,  and  the  inscription 
on  which  extolled  him.  as  liberator  of  the  city  from 
its  tyrants.  Francia  was  grieved  beyond  measure  at 
these  events ;  but,  as  Yasari  also  relates,  he  knew 
how  to  submit  quietly  to  his  fate,  as  a  sensible  man. 
Towards  one  alone  he  could  not  succeed  in  this, 
however,  —  to  him  who  now  appeared  in  Bologna  as 
a  foreign  artist,  to  cast  the  statue  of  the  man  who 
had  brought  this  misfortune  upon  the  city.  And 
this  statue  besides,  such  an  extraordinary  work ! 
Francia,  the  head  of  the  Bolognese  artists,  could 
scarcely  feel  otherwise  than  hostilely  opposed  to 
Michael  Angelo. 

It  is  possible  that  still  further  things  were  brought 
about  by  this  state  of  affairs.  In  the  same  winter 


312  LIFE   OF  MICHAFX,   ANGELO. 

of  1506  to  1507,  in  which  Michael  Angclo  began  his 
work  in  Bologna,  Albert  Durer  appears  to  have  come 
there  from  Venice  on  a  visit,  and  to  have  been 
received  with  great  distinction  by  the  artists.  He 
undertook  this  excursion  before  he  returned  from 
his  second  Italian  journey ;  there  is  no  trace,  how- 
ever, of  his  having  met  with  Michael  Aiigelo.  Mar- 
tin Schongauer  might  have  served  as  a  connecting 
link,  Michael  Angelo  having  achieved  his  first  paint- 
ing from  his  engraving;  while  Durer,  who  highly 
respected  Schongauer,  regretted  nothing  more  than 
that  fortune  had  not  allowed  him  to  have  studied 
with  him  as  a  pupil.  A  natural  meeting  between 
the  two,  however,  was  perhaps  scarcely  possible. 
If  the  native  artists  had  not  done  so,  the  Germans 
studying  in  Bologna  would  have  kept  Durer  back. 
For  they  felt  bitterly  the  contempt  with  which  the 
German  emperor  was  at  that  time  regarded  in  Italy ; 
and  they  looked  upon  the  pope  as  the  Devil,  to  whose 
charge  they  imputed  every  thing  evil.* 

Thus  considered,  Michael  Angelo's  solitude  ap- 
pears as  a  natural  result  of  circumstances.  But  even 
without  this  influence,  he  would  have  kept  himself 
quietly  at  home,  as  he  preferred  to  do.  The  melan 
choly,  which  formed  the  leading  feature  of  his  char- 
acter, found  relief  alone  in  devotion  to  his  work. 
If  we  could  quote  a  single  instance  in  which  he  was 
faithless  to  the  grand  idea  which  he  cherished  as  to 
the  mission  of  an  artist,  his  behavior  to  his  equal 
must  be  called  arrogant  and  rude,  and,  just  because 
he  towered  so  far  above  him  in  talent,  would  speak 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LVI. 


MICHAEL   ANGELO'S   STANDARD    OF   ART.          313 

most  strongly  against  him.  But  he  himself  fully 
satisfied  the  feeling  which  made  him  so  severe  in  his 
judgment  of  others.  He  refused  every  order  which 
he  thought  he  could  not  worthily  fulfil.  He  came 
most  cordially  to  the  help  of  those  who  claimed  his 
help.  The  childlike  nature  of  his  character  breaks 
forth  everywhere,  as  we  get  to  know  him  better ;  and 
Soderini's  letter  contains  no  praise  which  stands 
in  contradiction  to  the  truth.  Deeply  absorbed  at 
all  times  in  his  plans,  and  full  of  love  for  what  he 
wished  to  produce,  it  was  intolerable  to  him  to  meet 
others  who  thought  otherwise.  Without  wishing  or 
knowing,  perhaps,  how  much  he  wounded  them, 
he  passed  opinions  by  which  he  increased  the  num- 
ber of  those  enemies  whom  his  surpassing  talent 
alone  must  have  already  produced  in  such  an  abun- 
dant measure. 


314  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTH. 

1508—1509. 

Call  to  Rome — The  Painting  for  the  Ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel 
—  Difficulties  of  the  Undertaking —  Summoning  of  the  Floren- 
tine Artists  —  Impatience  of  the  Pope  —  Conclusion  of  the 
First  HaL"  of  the  Work — Raphael  in  Rome. 

MICHAEL  ANGELO  found  before  him,  on  his 
return  to  Florence,  a  series  of  works,  the  con- 
tinuation of  which  was  necessary.  The  cartoon 
must  be  painted,  the  bronze  David  finished ;  the 
twelve  apostles  for  the  cathedral  were  scarcely  begun. 
The  commissioners  had  by  this  time  given  up  all 
hopes  of  them,  and  had  let  the  house  built  for  the 
purpose.  Michael  Angelo  himself  now  took  it  for  a 
year  at  ten  gold  florins,  for  no  other  purpose  indeed 
than  to  carry  on  his  work  there.  Lastly,  Sodorini 
had  a  great  plan :  this  was  to  have  a  colossal  statue 
on  the  square  in  front  of  the  palace  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  to  commit  the  execution  of  it  to  Michael 
Angelo.  A  treaty  for  the  block  was  already  going 
on  with  the  Marchese  Malaspina,  the  owner  of  Car- 
rara. 

All  this,  however,  was  obliged  to  give  way  to 
Julius's  mausoleum.  Michael  Angelo  only  remained 
till  March,  1508,  in  his  native  city,  and  then  went 


THE   SISTINE   CHAPEL.  315 

again  to  Rome.  He  thought  of  nothing  else  than 
of  devoting  all  his  powers  to  the  great  work,  which 
he  had  left  two  years  ago ;  but  there  was  no  mention 
of  it  now  in  the  Vatican.  He  was  to  be  occupied  as 
a  painter.  Bramante  had  thought  over  the  matter. 
The  pope  was  not  again  to  be  persuaded ;  he  was 
convinced  that  the  erection  of  a  mausoleum  during 
his  lifetime  was  a  bad  omen.  As  Julius,  however, 
had  once  pledged  himself  to  Michael  Angelo,  lie 
would  devise  something  for  him,  in  which  they  might 
hope  to  equal  him  more  than  in  statuary.  In  this 
lie  excelled  all ;  he  was  now  to  paint.  The  pope 
insisted  that  Michael  Angelo  should  paint  the  vault 
of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  so  called  because  it  had  been 
built  by  Sixtus  (1473). 

The  task  was  not  thoroughly  to  his  mind.  Ho 
replied  that  he  had  never  done  any  thing  in  colors, 
and  must  request  other  work.  His  opposition  made 
the  pope  all  the  more  obstinate ;  and  Giuliano  di  San 
Gallo's  interposing  influence  so  far  succeeded,  that 
Michael  Angelo  consented  to  undertake  it. 

The  Sistine  Chapel,  at  the  present  day  united  with 
the  Vatican  palace  by  various  buildings  of  later  date, 
so  that  its  exterior  architecture  is  completely  hidden 
in  the  great  whole,  is  a  quadrangular  space,  twice  as 
tall  as  it  is  broad,  and  of  considerable  elevation,  so 
that  it  appears  high  and  narrow.  The  walls  are 
bare ;  the  windows,  six  in  number,  are  comparatively 
narrow  and  low,  and  placed  close  under  the  arched 
ceiling  on  the  two  longer  sides.  Close  under  them 
is  a  narrow  cornice-like  projection-  of  wall,  which  is 
protected  at  the  present  day  by  a  low  metal  balus- 


316  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

trade,  —  a  gallery,  to  pass  along  which  would  make 
many  people  giddy.  The  windows  are  rounded 
above.  Over  them,  the  smooth  vault  of  the  ceiling 
joins  the  side  walls,  and  this  in  such  a  manner  that 
the  triangular  space  between  the  windows  tapers 
down  upon  the  wall. 

It  was  at  first  the  intention  of  the  pope  only  to 
have  the  central  part  of  the  dome  filled  with  paint- 
ings of  small  figures.  A  contract  was  concluded, 
according  to  which  the  price  of  the  whole  was  settled 
at  three  thousand  crowns.  "  This  day,  the  30th 
May,  1508,"  —  such  is  the  purport  of  a  notice  which 
has  come  down  to  us, — "  I,  Michael  Angelo  the  sculp- 
tor, have  received  from  his  Holiness  Pope  Julius  II., 
five  hundred  ducats,  which  Messer  Carlino  the 
chamberlain,  and  Messer  Carlo  Albizzi,  have  paid  on 
account  for  the  painting  which  I  have  begun  this 
day  in  the  chapel  of  Pope  Sixtus ;  and  this  upon 
stated  conditions,  which  Monsignor  of  Pavia  has 
drawn  up,  and  which  I  have  signed  with  my  own 
hand." 

Michael  Angelo  upon  this  began  to  make  designs. 
Some  of  his  drawings  are  still  preserved.  He  was 
soon  convinced,  that  the  painting,  carried  out  in  this 
manner,  would  appear  too  simple  and  poor ;  and  the 
pope  agreed  with  him.  It  was  now  determined  to 
sover  the  whole  space  with  paintings  as  far  as  the 
windows ;  and  Michael  Angelo  was  free  to  form 
the  compositions  according  to  his  own  fancy.  A 
new  contract  raised  the  price  to  twice  the  sum 
agreed ;  and  the  work  was  in  course  of  execution  in 
the  chapel. 


THE   SISTINE   CHAPEL.  317 

Before,  however,  the  painting  could  be  begun, 
there  were  a  number  of  difficulties  to  overcome,  the 
first  of  which  consisted  in  the  erection  of  a  lit 
scaffolding.  Bramante  had  pierced  holes  in  the 
dome,  through  which  cords  could  be  passed,  and 
in  this  manner  a  suspended  scaffolding  formed. 
Michael  Angelo  asked  what  he  should  do  with  the 
holes  in  his  painting.  Bramante  confessed  the  evil, 
without  being  able  to  say  how  it  could  be  remedied. 

It  does  not  seem  that  it  was  ill-will  on  the  part  of 
Bramante,  when  he  declared  that  he  could  build  no 
better  scaffolding.  The  simplest  thing  would  have 
been  to  raise  it  upon  beams  from  the  ground.  That 
this  was  not  done,  and  that  it  was  not  even  thought 
of,  may  be  perhaps  accounted  for  from  the  fact  that 
it  was  at  the  same  time  necessary  to  leave  the  chapel 
free  below,  so  that  its  use  for  divine  service  might 
not  be  prevented  by  the  work. 

Michael  Angelo  explained  to  the  pope  that  the 
thing  would  not  do  as  it  was.  Julius  replied  that 
he  might  devise  something  better  if  he  could.  Bra- 
mante could  propose  nothing.  Michael  Angelo,  upon 
this,  ordered  all  that  had  been  constructed  to  be 
removed,  and  produced  a  scaffolding  without  cords 
and  holes,  which  suited  his  object  most  appropriate- 
ly, and  was  considered  at  that  time  as  quite  a  new 
invention.  From  the  one  remark  of  Condivi's,  that 
the  more  the  scaffolding  was  loaded,  the  better  it 
supported,  we  perceive  in  it  a  so-called  suspension 
work ;  probably  the  projecting  wall  below  the  win- 
dows afforded  the  support  for  the  beams,  which, 
running  obliquely,  two  by  two,  were  kept  apart  by  a 


318  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

third  wedge-like  beam  inserted  between,  and  formed 
a  strong  foundation,  upon  which,  by  means  of  boards 
laid  across,  the  base  of  the  scaffolding  rested.  Vasari, 
however,  —  who  copies  Condivi  here,  but  adds  some- 
thing of  his  own  also,  —  says  that  the  beams  rested 
on  supports,  so  as  not  necessarily  to  touch  the  walls. 
Perhaps  he  had  only  forgotten  the  projection ;  for, 
had  this  been  lacking,  the  erection  of  beams  against 
the  walls  would  have  been  of  course  necessary,  on  the 
top  of  which  the  wood  forming  the  suspension  work 
would  have  rested. 

Condivi  says  of  this  scaffolding,  that  it  opened  Bra- 
mante's  eyes,  and  was  of  essential  service  to  him 
subsequently  in  the  building  of  St.  Peter's ;  Michael 
Angelo,  however,  saved  so  much  cord  by  it,  that  a 
poor  carpenter,  whose  help  he  made  use  of  in  the 
work,  and  to  whom  he  made  a  present  of  the  cord, 
was  able  to  give  marriage  portions  to  his  two 
daughters  from  the  money  derived  from  it. 

The  second  difficulty  consisted  in  the  choice  of  able 
helpers.  Michael  Angelo  had  a  number  of  painters 
come  from  Florence,  whose  names  have  an  interest 
because  they  exhibit  to  us  a  portion  of  the  Buonarroti 
party  among  the  artists  there.  First  there  is  his 
earliest  friend  Granaccio,  respecting  whose  works 
and  career  there  is  otherwise  little  to  relate.  He 
continued  as  he  had  begun  :  where  solemn  meetings, 
the  representation  of  comedies,  the  erection  of  tri- 
umphal arches,  or  masquerades,  were  concerned,  hu 
excelled;  as  an  artist  he  produced  nothing.  Then 
Bugiardini,  who  had  also  studied  with  him  in  the 
gardens  of  San  Marco  and  with  Grillandajo,  and 


BASTIANO    DI   SAN   GALLO.  319 

whose  industry,  goodness  of  heart,  and  simple  nature, 
harboring  no  trace  of  envy  or  malevolence,  formed 
the  basis  of  a  life -long  friendship  between  him 
and  Michael  Augelo.  He  was  not  a  great  genius. 
Michael  Angelo  said  of  him  in  jest,  that  he  was  a 
happy  man,  because  he  was  always  so  contented  with 
what  he  had  accomplished,  whilst  he  himself  never 
completed  a  work  to  his  own  full  satisfaction. 

Next  comes  Indaco,  also  an  intimate  friend  of 
Michael  Angelo's,  from  the  days  he  studied  with 
Grillandajo.  He  has  no  other  claim  to  celebrity  in 
the  present  day.  Of  Jacopo  del  Tedesco,  nothing 
more  is  known  than  that  lie  possibly  was  a  pupil  of 
Grillandajo's ;  and,  respecting  Agnolo  di  Donnino, 
authorities  and  conjectures  refuse  all  information. 
The  most  important,  however,  of  those  who  came 
to  Rome  at  that  time,  was  Bastiano  di  San  Gallo,  a 
nephew  of  those  famous  brothers,  the  patrons  of 
Michael  Angelo  ;  he  was  at  the  same  time  an  artist 
who  had  left  Perugino's  school,  in  whose  atelier  he 
had  worked  in  1500,  as  a  declared  renegade,  and 
had  gone  over  to  Michael  Angelo.  The  cartoon  of 
the  bathing  soldiers  had  inspired  him  with  higher 
views.  He  belonged  to  Michael  Angelo's  most 
zealous  adherents.  None  copied  the  cartoon  Avith 
such  zeal.  He  was  the  only  one  who  copied  it  in  its 
whole  extent,  while  others  drew  only  separate  groups 
of  it.  The  small  gray-colored  copy  of  the  work  ex- 
isting in  England  is  reported  to  be  his  production. 
He  is  said  to  have  spoken  so  intelligently  and  deeply 
of  the  anatomical  correctness  and  the  fore-shorten- 
ings of  the  figures,  that  in  Florence  thev  gave  him 


320  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  surname  of  Aristotle,  under  which  he  is  usually 
mentioned.  He  subsequently  distinguished  himself 
in  Florence  as  architect  and  painter ;  and  his  life,  as 
written  by  Yasari,'  occupies  many  pages. 

With  these  half  dozen  men,  Michael  Angelo  at- 
tempted his  task.  He  soon  perceived  that  the  work 
was  worth  nothing,  and  that  he  should  not  require 
the  men.  The  manner  in  which  he  endeavored  to 
get  rid  of  them  is  characteristic.  He  was  firm  and 
inflexible  in  his  convictions  with  regard  to  his  ene- 
mies ;  but,  in  ordinary  affairs,  he  was  by  nature  shy. 
"Where  it  was  necessary  to  defend  others,  or  to  come 
forward  for  his  own  honor,  his  resolution  and 
strength  were  never  lacking;  but,  when  there  was 
nothing  to  call  forth  this  excitement  of  mind,  and  a 
certain  temperate  state  of  feeling  gained  ground,  he 
then  endured  things,  and  was  easily  embarrassed. 

He  had  not  this  time  the  heart  to  confess  to  his 
friends,  that  he  could  not  require  them.  Instead  of 
this,  he  went  suddenly  away,  and  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  They  found  the  chapel  shut  when  they 
came  to  work  as  usual.  At  last  they  perceived  the 
matter ;  and  they  set  out  qiiietly  again  on  the  road 
to  Florence.  It  is  not  said  whether  they  resented 
this  subsequently.  We  know  that  it  was  not  the 
case  with  Granacci.  He  remained  the  friend  of 
the  family.  The  London  letters  tell,  it  is  true, 
of  another,  who  took  the  matter  ill ;  and  this  was 
that  same  Jacopo,  who,  perhaps  because  he  was  the 
most  unimportant,  felt  himself  most  aggrieved. 
The  letter,  dated  January,  without  further  number, 
may  be  undoubtedly  reckoned  as  belonging  to  the 


CORRESPONDENCE   WITH   HIS   FAMILY.  321 

year  1509,  and  is  addressed  to  the  old  Ludovico 
Buonarroti.  "  It  is  now  a  year,"  writes  Michael 
Angelo,  "  since  I  have  received  a  farthing  from  the 
pope.  I  do  not  ask  for  it,  because  I  cannot  get  on 
with  the  work,  and  I  seem  to  have  no  claim  for  pay. 
The  fault  lies  in  the  difficulty  of  the  task,  and  that 
it  is  not  my  profession.  Thus  I  am  losing  my  time 
in  vain.  God  help  me !  If  you  want  money,  go  to 
the  director  of  the  hospital,  and  let  him  pay  you 
fifteen  ducats  ;  and  tell  me  how  much  is  left."  This 
director  of  the  hospital  of  Santa  Maria  Nuova  was 
the  confidential  friend,  to  whom  Michael  Angelo 
transmitted  his  money  to  be  kept  for  him,  and  to  be 
received  without  interest,  and  through  whom  he 
gave  his  family  what  they  required. 

"  This  day,"  he  writes  further  in  the  letter,  "  the 
painter  Jacopo  has  taken  his  departure ;  I  caused 
him  to  come  here,  and  he  has  complained  of  me 
bitterly.  He  will  make  complaints  to  you  certainly. 
It  is  no  matter.  He  is,  in  short,  a  thousand  times 
more  in  the  wrong  as  regards  me  ;  and  I  could  make 
heavy  complaints  against  him.  Act  as  if  you  did 
not  see  him."  * 

The  expedient  which  he  proposes  against  Jacopo's 
complaints  corresponds  entirely  with  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  dismissed  him  and  the  others.  His 
melancholy  mood,  and  his  despair  at  the  progress  of 
his  painting,  however,  had  its  ground  in  a  circum- 
stance which  had  almost  induced  him  at  the  time  to 
give  up  the  whole  thing. 

He  had  destroyed  what  the  Florentine  artists  had 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LVII. 

14*  U 


322  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

painted.  From  henceforth,  except  his  color-grinder, 
whom  he  could  not  do  without,  and  the  pope,  who 
would  not  be  refused  admittance,  no  one  was  to 
come  to  him  on  the  scaffolding.  Scarcely,  however, 
had  he  completed  a  part  of  the  first  painting,  than,  a 
violent  north  wind  rising,  the  wall  began  to  exude 
within,  and  the  colors  disappeared  under  the  mould. 
The  whole  matter  had  long  been  a  burden  to  him ; 
and  now  this  new  evil  seemed  a  decisive  reason  for 
withdrawing  from  the  task.  He  went  to  the  pope, 
and  announced  to  him  what  had  happened.  "  I 
told  your  Holiness  from  the  first  that  painting  was 
not  my  profession;  all  that  I  have  painted  is  de- 
stroyed. If  you  do  not  believe  it,  send  and  let 
some  one  else  see." 

The  pope  sent  Giuliano  di  San  Gallo  to  the  chapel, 
who  at  once  perceived  the  cause  of  the  mischief. 
Michael  Angelo  had  made  the  plaster  too  wet ;  the 
moisture  had  sunk  in,  and  had  produced  mould  on 
the  outer  surface,  which  had  done  no  further  injury. 
Michael  Angelo  could  now  no  longer  excuse  himself; 
and  he  was  obliged  to  proceed  again  with  his  work. 

Many  letters,  containing  information  as  to  the 
circumstances  under  which  Michael  Angelo  worked, 
are  to  be  found  in  the  London  manuscripts,  bearing 
the  date  of  the  year  1508,  in  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  he  had  not  yet  arrived  at  painting,  and  of  the 
year  following. 

There  is  first  a  letter  of  the  2d  July,  1508,  to 
Buonarroti.  It  is  in  recommendation  of  a  young 
Spanish  artist,  who  went  from  Rome  to  Florence 
to  continue  Ms  studies  there.  "  He  has  begged 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH   HIS   FAMILY.  323 

me,"  writes  Michael  Angelo,  "  to  procure  him  a 
sight  of  the  cartoon,  which  I  have  begun  in  the  hall 
there.  Try  therefore,  under  all  circumstances,  to 
get  him  the  keys;  and,  if  you  can  otherwise  give 
him  good  counsel,  do  so  for  love  of  me,  —  for  he  is 
an  excellent  man." 

"  Giovansimone,"  he  continues,  "  is  here.  He 
has  been  ill  for  some  weeks,  and  has  caused  me  no 
small  increase  of  anxiety  in  addition  to  what  I  have 
had  otherwise  to  endure.  He  is  better  now.  If  he 
attends  to  my  advice,  he  will  return  speedily  to 
Florence  ;  for  the  air  here  does  not  agree  with  him." 
In  conclusion,  he  mentions  the  names  of  some 
friends,  to  whom  Buonarroti  is  to  remember  him.* 

The  summer  of  1508  must  have  been  especially 
fatal  (the  first  which  Raphael  spent  in  Rome)  ;  for 
the  next  letter  mentions  a  fresh  attack  of  sickness. f 
His  servant  Pierbasso  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  bad 
air ;  had  set  out  for  Florence,  ill  as  he  was ;  but  was 
so  unwell  at  his  departure,  that  Michael  Angelo 
feared  the  man  might  have  been  left  sick  by  the 
way.  He  asks  for  another  servant,  and  that  quickly, 
as  he  cannot  continue  longer  to  keep  house  alone. 
He  gives  directions  respecting  the  inheritance  of 
Francesco  Buonarroti,  his  father's  eldest  brother, 
who  had  died  childless,  it  seems,  in  his  seventy-fifth 
year.  He  begs  that  they  will  buy  him  some  blue- 
color  ;  he  will  send  the  money  for  it  in  the  middle 
of  August.  Lastly,  he  has  heard  that  they  have 
refused  the  Spaniard  admittance  into  the  hall  where 
the  cartoon  stands.  He  was  glad  of  it ;  and  he  begs 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LVIII.  t  Ibid.,  Note  LIX. 


324  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Buonarroti  to  tell  the  gentlemen  who  had  thua 
decided,  when  occasion  offered,  that  they  might 
keep  it  so  to  every  one.  In  a  postscript,  he  requests 
him  to  send  the  enclosed  letter  to  Granaccio ;  it  is 
of  importance. 

The  letter  is  dated  the  last  of  July.  From  the 
commission  to  buy  color,  we  may  conclude  that 
Michael  Angelo  had  already  begun  his  painting. 
But  it  certainly  only  concerned  the  preparations; 
and  the  letter  to  Granaccio  probably  contains  the 
invitation  to  come  and  help.  It  is  striking,  that 
the  cartoon  is  so  strictly  locked  up,  that  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  master  himself  secured  no  remis- 
sion at  that  time ;  the  young  Florentine  artists, 
therefore,  could  not  have  sat  and  drawn  before  the 
cartoon,  and  consequently  not  even  Raphael,  as  long 
as  he  was  then  in  Florence. 

The  next  letter  is  dated  August.  Again  matters 
of  business.  We  see  how  Michael  Angelo  is  con- 
sulted by  his  family  about  the  least  thing,  and  how 
he  directs  the  Florentine  household  from  Rome.  A 
farm  laborer  had  at  this  time  not  done  his  duty ; 
Michael  Angelo  threatens  to  come  himself,  and  look 
after  him.  He  inquires  whether  Pierbasso  has  at 
length  arrived.  These  letters  afford  only  abrupt 
glimpses  into  a  household,  which  we  do  not,  how- 
ever, get  to  understand ;  and  their  value  consists 
mostly  in  the  fact,  that  they  show  the  position  which 
Michael  Angelo  occupies  with  his  father  and  broth- 
ers, and  the  feeling  from  which  he  acts.  Only  one 
more  letter  besides  exists  of  the  same  year,  without 
a  date,  but  which  we  see,  by  the  address,  to  have 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH   HIS   FAMILY.  325 

arrived  in  Florence  on  the  17th  October.  The  mel- 
ancholy so  deeply  seated  in  Michael  Angelo's  soul, 
which  he  for  the  most  part  either  concealed  or  mod- 
erated, bursts  forth  here,  and  exhibits  the  man,  at 
the  period  when  he  was  engaged  in  the  greatest 
work  that  modern  painting  has  produced,  in  a  con- 
dition which  claims  our  sympathy. 

For  the  first  time,  in  this  letter  mention  is  made 
of  his  younger  brother  Gismondo,  with  whom  Mi- 
chael Angelo  from  the  first  seems  to  have  stood  on 
no  good  terms.  He  understands,  he  writes,  that 
Gismondo  wishes  to  come  to  Rome.  Buonarroto 
may  tell  him,  in  his  name,  that  he  must  in  no  wise 
rely  upon  him  in  this  journey.  Not  that  he  does 
not  love  him  as  his  brother,  but  because  he  could 
really  assist  him  in  nothing.  He  is  compelled  now 
to  have  regard  to  himself  solely ;  he  is  scarcely  able 
to  procure  what  he  wants  for  himself.  "With  care 
and  bodily  labor,  he  has  been  a  burden  to  no  friend 
in  Rome,  and  needs  none  ;  he  scarcely  finds  time  to 
take  his  small  morsel  of  food ;  and  for  this  reason  he 
must  not  have  more  put  upon  him.  He  could  not 
bear  half  an  ounce  more  than  already  lies  upon  him. 
He  seems  only  to  have  led  his  most  miserable  life 
for  the  sake  of  saving  for  his  family. 

The  year  1509  is  opened  by  the  letter  already 
mentioned,  in  which  he  speaks  of  Jacopo.  The  date 
of  those  that  follow  cannot  be  surely  decided ;  but 
they  can  belong  to  no  other  time.  They  treat  of 
family  questions,  remittances  of  money,  and  pur 
chases  of  property,  —  the  usual  manner  at  that  time 
of  laying  out  his  wealth.  Once,  in  June,  there  is 


326  LIFE  OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

mention  of  sickness.  Michael  Angelo  writes  that 
they  had  called  him  dead ;  that  he  still  lives  :  and 
he  gives  notice  that  he  is  well,  and  at  work.*  In 
August  or  September,  he  writes  that  he  will  come  as 
soon  as  his  painting  is  finished ;  and,  in  a  letter  of 
the  15th  September,  there  is  an  allusion  to  domestic 
calamity  at  Florence,  of  which  we  know  nothing 
further.  But  his  manner  of  treating  these  things 
shows  us  his  turn  of  mind. 

"I  have,"  he  writes,  f  "given  Giovanni  Balducci  (the 
Florentine  house  in  Rome,  through  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  send  money  and  letters)  three  hundred  and  fifty 
ducats  in  gold,  that  they  may  be  paid  over  to  you.  Go 
with  this  letter  to  Bonifacio ;  and,  when  you  have  received 
the  sum  from  him,  take  it  to  the  director  of  the  hospital, 
and  have  it  entered  like  my  other  money.  Some  surplus 
ducats  remain  besides  for  you,  which  I  have  written  that 
you  were  to  take.  If  you  have  neglected  to  do  so,  do  it 
now ;  and,  if  you  want  more,  take  what  you  require :  for 
•whatever  you  need  I  will  give  you,  even  though  it  is  all  I 
have.  And,  if  it  is  necessary  that  I  should  write  about  it 
to  the  director  of  the  hospital,  let  me  know. 

"  From  your  last  letter,  I  see  how  things  stand.  I  am 
sorry  enough,  but  cannot  help  you  in  any  other  manner. 
Still  do  not  lose  courage,  and  let  not  a  trace  of  inward 
sadness  gain  ground  in  you ;  for,  if  you  have  lost  your 
property,  life  is  not  lost,  and  I  will  do  more  for  you  than 
all  that  you  have  lost.  Still  do  not  rely  upon  it ;  it  is 
always  a  doubtful  matter.  Use,  rather,  all  possible  pre- 
caution; and  thank  God,  that,  as  this  chastisement  of 
heaven  was  to  come,  it  came  at  a  time  when  you  could 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LIX.  t  Ibi<*.,  Note  LX. 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH   HIS   FAMILY.  327 

better  extricate  youi'self  from  it  than  you  would  perhaps 
have  been  earlier  able  to  do.  Take  care  of  your  health, 
and  rather  part  with  all  your  possessions  than  impose  pri- 
vations on  yourself.  For  it  is  of  greater  consequence  to  me 
that  you  should  remain  alive,  although  a  poor  man,  than 
that  you  should  perish  for  the  sake  of  all  the  money  in  the 
world.  And,  if  people  chatter  and  whisper,  let  them  talk : 
they  are  people  without  conscience,  and  without  love  in 
their  heart.  Your  MICHAEL  ANGELO." 

With  regard  to  this  gossip,  it  was  a  matter  of 
consequence  in  Florence.  Nowhere  were  so  many 
evil  tongues  in  motion.  It  is  related  how  the  old 
men  who  had  withdrawn  from  business  sat  in  a 
street  on  benches  before  the  houses,  and  made  sharp 
observations  on  the  occurrences  of  the  day.  For 
what  in  the  present  day  is  carried  quietly  into  every 
house  by  the  newspapers,  was  at  that  time  necessa- 
rily gathered  together  orally ;  and  many  things  could 
not  be  kept  secret,  which  at  the  present  day  are  not 
promulgated  abroad,  because  not  printed. 

There  is  still  a  postscript  to  the  letter :  "If  you 
carry  the  money  to  the  hospital  inspector,  take 
Buonarroto  with  you ;  and  neither  of  you  say  a  word 
of  it  to  any  human  being,  for  good  reasons.  That 
is,  neither  you  nor  Buonarroto  are  to  let  any  one 
know  that  I  have  sent  money,  neither  with  regard 
to  that  now  sent,  or  to  the  former."  In  very  illegi- 
ble writing,  the  latter  part  of  which  I  am '  almost 
obliged  to  guess  at,  there  is  written  on  the  letter, 
"  I  am  to  take  as  much  money  as  I  require  ;  and  as 
much  as  I  take,  he  gives  me."  It  is  probably  the 
handwriting  of  his  father.  I  suppose  the  mischief 


328  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

was,  that  Giovansimone  had  induced  his  father  to 
give  him  more  than  he  perhaps  ought,  for  setting 
up  his  independent  business,  and  that  he  had 
ruined  his  own  business  in  consequence.  Some  of 
Michael  Angelo's  other  letters  allow  us  to  con- 
jecture the  same ;  but  nothing  can  be  stated  with 
certainty  on  account  of  the  lacking  connection  of 
dates. 

Amid  such  thoughts,  Michael  Angelo's  work  pro- 
gressed. The  tormenting  impatience  of  the  pope 
was  a  further  stimulant.  As  if  he  wished,  by  the 
haste  with  which  he  urged  on  his  undertakings,  to 
give  double  significance  to  the  few  years  he  had  yet 
to  live,  he  desired  that  the  seeds  which  were  but 
just  sown  should  grow  before  his  eyes.  In  build- 
ing, he  was  spoiled  by  Bramante,  who  accomplished 
impossible  things.  He  had  the  stones  for  his  walls 
prepared  by  night  in  such  a  manner,  that,  when  they 
were  put  together  by  day,  the  walls  rose  visibly,  be- 
cause groove  fitted  groove.  Michael  Angelo  scorned 
all  artifice.  He  painted  quickly,  but  without  assis- 
tance. The  pope  came  to  him  on  the  scaffolding,  — 
ascending  on  ladders,  so  that  Michael  Angelo  was 
obliged  to  stretch  out  his  hand  that  he  might  climb 
the  last  step,  —  and  provoked  Mm  with  questions,  as 
to  whether  he  should  soon  have  finished.  Between 
the  spring  of  1509  and  the  autumn  of  the  same  year, 
the  half  of  the  ceiling  was  completed.  The  impa- 
tience of  Julius  knew  no  longer  any  bounds.  He 
declared  that  the  scaffolding  should  come  down,  that 
this  one  piece,  at  least,  might  be  shown  to  the  Ro- 
mans. Michael  Angelo  resisted.  The  last  touches 


THE   CEILING   OF   THE   SISTINE   CHAPEL.  829 

were  still  wanting;  and  the  gold  for  the  different 
ornaments  and  lights  had  not  yet  been  laid  on.  The 
pope  came  one  day,  and  asked  when  he  would  now 
come  to  an  end.  "  When  I  can,"  replied  Michael 
Angelo.  "  You  seem  indeed  desirous,"  thundered 
out  Julius,  "  that  I  should  have  you  thrown  down 
from  this  scaffolding."  Michael  Angelo  knew  his 
man,  suspended  his  work  immediately,  and  allowed 
the  beams  to  be  removed.  In  the  midst  of  the  con- 
fusion and  dust  which  filled  the  chapel,  the  pope 
was  already  there,  admiring  the  work.  On  All 
Saints'  Day,  1509,  the  whole  of  Rome  crowded 
there,  and  gazed  at  the  wonderful  work  which  had 
arisen  like  magic. 

2. 

If  we  wish  to  have  an  idea  of  the  art  of  Giotto 
and  his  pupils,  —  architecture  and  painting  in  one, 
—  we  must  go  to  the  Camposanto  of  Pisa ;  if  we 
desire,  on  the  other  hand,  to  see  a  masterpiece  of 
the  period  that  followed  them,  of  that  advance  that 
lies  between  Masaccio  and  Michael  Angelo,  the  Sistine 
Chapel  affords  it.  The  best  artists  have  worked  in 
it;  among  the  earlier,  Botticelli,  Signorelli,  Ghir- 
landajo,  and  Perugino ;  all  large,  extensive  compo- 
sitions, the  origin  of  which,  the  small,  miniature-like 
ideal,  we  never  lose  sight  of.  Perugino  first  leads 
to  greater  things.  His  superiority  over  the  others  is 
here  strikingly  apparent ;  for  the  paintings,  one 
touching  another,  form  a  broad  girdle,  running  be- 
low the  windows  on  all  four  walls:  we  perceive  his 
bimplicity,  his  symmetry,  his  carefully  separated 


330  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

figures ;  whilst,  with  the  others,  the  different  forms 
in  the  masses  are  scarcely  considered. 

Michael  Angelo's  ceiling-piece  denotes  the  dawn 
of  new  views  in  painting.  The  cartoon  of  the 
bathing  soldiers  may  be  the  best  which  he  has  ever 
produced,  —  we  will  believe  Benvenuto  Cellini,  who 
so  freely  asserts  this,  —  but  his  paintings  in  the  Sis- 
tine  Chapel  have  had  the  greatest  influence ;  they 
are  the  beginning  of  modern  painting.  Whatever 
he,  whatever  Raphael  and  Leonardo,  had  done  pre- 
viously, had  always  sprung  from  the  old  Florentine 
mannerism,  raised  above  it,  yet  still  never  denying 
the  soil  upon  which  it  had  grown ;  but  here  a  new 
achievement  took  place,  the  greatest,  perhaps,  upon 
which  an  artist  has  ventured.  The  imagination 
which  ruled  here  was  just  as  rich  as  the  art  which 
executed  her  ideas.  Michael  Angelo  had  no  model 
before  him,  on  which  he  could  have  leant ;  he  de- 
vised his  method,  and  exhausted  it  at  once.  No 
later  master  comes  forward  as  a  rival;  no  earlier 
one  attempted  the  like.  For  his  work  was  produced 
by  the  effort  of  powers,  which,  so  long  as  we  have 
known  art,  have  stood  at  the  disposal  of  no  other 
artist  in  like  combination,  and  which  he  exerted  in 
a  surprising  manner. 

Hitherto,  arched  ceilings,  intended  for  painting, 
had  been  divided  into  different  compartments ;  and 
these  were  each  filled  with  separate  representati  >ns. 
Michael  Angelo  devised  a  new  principle.  He 
ignored,  as  it  were,  the  dome ;  he  arranged  his 
painting  as  if  the  space  had  been  open  above,  and 
roofless  ;  he  built  out  a  new  architecture  in  the  air, 


THE   CEILING   OF   THE   SISTINE   CHAPEL.  331 

all  in  perspective  delusion,  and  united  the  imaginary 
marble  walls,  which  he  had  furnished  with  a  magni- 
ficent cornice,  by  airy,  perforated  arches,  stretching 
from  one  marble  breastwork  to  another. 

The  open  space  between  these  arches  was  filled 
with  paintings,  these  also  drawn  in  perspective,  as 
would  be  the  case  with  things  in  the  sky  seen 
through  the  apertures,  or  as  if  they  were  visible  on 
tapestry  that  had  been  placed  there.  It  would  be 
impossible  in  a  description  to  mention  all  the  figures 
in  the  right  place,  which  only  served  for  the  decora- 
tion of  the  architectural  part  of  the  painting ;  the 
bronze  medallions  which  appeared  inserted  in  the 
marble ;  the  mighty  figures  of  slaves,  which,  bearing 
garlands  of  leaves,  are  seated  by  the  arches  at  the 
edge  of  the  cornice  ;  the  Caryatid-like  figures  which 
seem  to  support  the  edge  of  the  cornice ;  and,  lastly, 
the  metaphorical  representations  covering  the  space 
between  the  windows,  and  the  walls  around  them. 
For  there  is  not  a  spot  on  the  whole  surface  which  is 
left  unused.  Such  an  abundance  presents  itself, 
that  it  requires  many  days  of  the  most  attentive 
study  to  master  it  even  superficially. 

At  the  present  day,  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel  is  partly  injured,  as  regards  the  brightness 
of  its  coloring,  by  the  rising  smoke  and  dust,  and 
has  partly  faded  from  length  of  time.  Cracks  have 
appeared  in  the  dome,  and  water  has  trickled  down 
through  them.  Three  centuries  and  a  half,  the 
paintings  have  stood  there ;  and  it  is  not  possible 
by  any  means  to  oppose  the  slow  decay  to  which 
they  must  be  subject.  Still  a  happy  fate  has  been 


332  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

theirs,  in  that  they  are  thoroughly  inaccessible  to 
human  hands ;  they  would  have  to  be  shot  at,  or  the 
roof  broken  through  from  above,  to  be  injured  inten- 
tionally. How  lamentably,  on  the  contrary,  are  the 
paintings  of  Raphael  maltreated  in  the  apartments 
of  the  Vatican,  not  only  by  those  who  break  them, 
scratch  them,  and  make  them  dirty  by  touching,  but 
aloo  by  the  efforts  of  those  who  undertake  their 
restoration !  * 

In  the  first  of  the  great  paintings,  occupying  the 
centre  of  the  ceiling  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  we  see 
God  the  Father,  brooding  over  the  waters,  as  he 
divides  the  light  from  the  darkness.  In  the  second, 
we  see  him  creating  the  two  greatest  lights  in  the 
heaven,  the  sun  and  moon.  It  is  the  same  form  in 
each.  But,  in  the  second  painting,  the  calmly  hover- 
ing person  of  the  Supreme  Being,  as  he  is  portrayed 
in  the  first,  is  caught  by  aii  immense  storm,  and  is 
represented  as  being  thus  borne  through  infinite 
space.  His  white  beard  is  waving,  his  arms  are 
commandingly  outstretched,  and  there  is  an  impulse 
forwards  in  the  whole,  as  if  a  fearful  star — com- 
pared with  which  the  sun  would  be  only  a  grain  of 
dust — was  rushing  thunderingly  past,  and  all  the 
Jower  worlds  were  darting  forth,  like  light  sparks, 
from  its  original  flame.  And  indeed,  in  this  second 
picture,  we  twice  see  the  form  of  God,  —  once  com- 
ing forwards,  the  second  time  with  the  back  towards 
us,  as  if  the  first  expressed  approach,  and  the  second 
was  hastening  away.  Both  figures  are  drawn  in 
fore-shortening. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXI. 


THE   CREATION   OF  ADAM.  333 

Iii  the  third  picture,  God  is  hovering  over  the 
waters.  There  is  ever  the  one  form,  ever  another 
expression  of  the  different  will  that  fills  it.  In  the 
midst  of  the  fermenting  powers,  from  whose  inter- 
mingling the  world  is  formed,  he  seems  to  bear  a 
fiercer  appearance  than  he  assumes  in  his  intercourse 
with  man,  when  he  reveals  himself  to  them.  In  the 
fourth  picture,  he  appears  at  the  moment  when  he 
bestows  life  upon  the  first  man. 

Adam  lies  on  a  dark  mountain  summit.  His 
formation  is  finished;  nothing  more  remains  than 
that  he  should  rise,  and  feel  for  the  first  time  what 
life  and  waking  is.  It  is  as  if  the  first  emotion  of 
his  new  condition  thrilled  through  him ;  as  if,  still 
lying  almost  in  a  dream,  he  divined  what  was  pass- 
ing around  him.  God  hovers  slowly  down  over  him 
from  above,  softly  descending  like  an  evening  cloud. 
Angel  forms  surround  him  on  all  sides,  closely 
thronging  round  him  as  if  they  were  bearing  him  ; 
and  his  mantle,  as  if  swelled  out  by  a  full  gust  of 
wind,  forms  a  flowing  tent  around  them  all.  These 
angels  are  children  in  appearance,  with  lovely  coun- 
tenances ;  some  support  him  from  below,  others  look 
over  his  shoulder.  More  wonderful  still  than  the 
mantle  which  embraces  them  all,  is  the  garment 
which  covers  the  form  of  God  himself, — violet-gruy 
drapery,  transparent  as  if  woven  out  of  clouds, 
closely  surrounding  the  mighty  and  beautiful  form 
with  its  small  folds,  covering  him  entirely  down  to 
the  knees,  and  yet  allowing  every  muscle  to  appear 
through  it.  I  have  never  seen  the  portrait  of  a  human 
body  which  equalled  the  beauty  of  tliis.  Cornelius 


334  LiFJU   OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

justly  said,  that,  since  Phidias,  its  like  has  not  been 
formed ;  and  his  works  we  know  only  by  report.  The 
head,  however,  with  its  thick  white  hair  and  beard, 
expresses  so  completely  the  majesty  of  which  it  is  to 
be  the  image,  that  here  for  the  first  time  there  is 
nothing  strange  to  me,  in  the  sight  of  the  Most  High, 
who,  as  it  is  said,  created  man  in  his  own  image, 
appearing  in  human  form.  Almighty  power,  joined 
with  mild  compassion,  beams  forth  in  him.  He 
stretches  out  his  right  hand  towards  the  prostrate 
man,  who  raises  his  left  apparently  involuntarily  and 
in  sleep ;  and  the  extreme  point  of  his  forefinger  is 
almost  touched  by  the  finger  of  God. 

This  corresponding  movement  is  full  of  ideas,  each 
of  which  seems  at  the  moment  exhausting,  but  is 
soon  dispelled  by  another.  All  that  is  genuinely 
symbolic  has  something  in  it  unapproachable ;  and 
this  meeting  of  God  and  man  is,  in  the  purest  sense, 
symbolic.  God  commands,  and  Adam  obeys.  He 
signs  to  him  to  rise,  and  Adam  seizes  his  hand  to 
raise  himself  up.  Like  an  electric  touch,  God  sends 
a  spark  of  his  own  spirit,  with  life-giving  power,  into 
Adam's  body.  Adam  lay  there  powerless  ;  the  spirit 
moves  within  him ;  he  raises  his  head  to  his  Creator, 
as  a  flower  turns  to  the  sun,  impelled  by  that  won- 
derful power  which  is  neither  will  nor  obedience. 
He  attempts  to  raise  the  whole  upper  part  of  his 
body ;  he  supports  himself  on  his  right  arm,  on 
which  he  lay  resting,  while  he  stretches  out  the  left ; 
his  right  leg  is  stretched  out ;  he  has  drawn  in  the 
left  closely,  in  order  to  free  himself  from  the  ground, 
so  that  the  knee  is  raised,  —  all  the  most  natural 


THE   CREATION   OF   EVE.  335 

movements  of  a  man  wishing  to  rise.  Then  God 
gives  him  his  hand ;  it  seems  as  if  it  would  attract 
him  like  a  magnet  without  the  fingers  touching  him  : 
as  if,  gently  hovering  back,  he  would  draw  him  after 
him,  until  his  form  stood  erect  on  his  feet. 

Condivi  says,  in  a  very  childlike  way,  that  the 
outstretched  hand  of  God  denotes  that  God  was 
giving  Adam  good  instruction  as  to  what  he  was  to 
do,  and  Avhat  he  was  to  desist  from.  There  is  nothing 
to  be  said  against  this :  as  regards  great  works  of 
art,  the  simplest  explanations  have  the  same  right 
as  the  understanding  that  fancies  it  can  comprehend 
most  profoundly ;  and  which,  in  comparison  with 
the  ideas  of  the  artist,  penetrates  no  deeper  than  the 
deepest  mine  does  into  the  heart  of  the  earth, 
the  outermost  crust  of  which  it  scarcely  pierces. 

The  next  picture  is  the  creation  of  Eve.  Adam 
lies  on  his  right  side  sunk  in  sleep,  and  completely 
turned  to  the  spectator.  One  arm  falls  languidly 
on  his  breast,  and  the  back  of  the  fingers  rest  upon 
the  ground.  The  upper  part  of  the  body  is  raised 
a  little  by  the  rocks,  on  which  he  leant  in  his  sleep ; 
and  the  head  is  thus  forced  upon  the  left  shoulder. 

At  his  feet  stands  God  the  Father.  The  more 
he  approaches  man,  the  more  human  he  appears. 
Ue  no  longer  hovers  above  ;  he  stands  on  the  ground, 
and  walks;  his  long  grayish-violet  mantle  falls  in 
great  folds  at  his  feet;  his  head  is  slightly  bent  for- 
ward with  a  benevolent  aspect ;  and  his  right  hand 
is  raised:  for  before  him  stands  Eve,  upon  whom 
at  that  moment  he  has  bestowed  life.  She  stands 
behind  Adam ;  we  see  her  completely  in  profile ; 


336  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

her  feet  are  concealed  by  Adam's  prostrate  form: 
we  could  imagine  she  was  stepping  forth  from  his 
side,  just  as  earlier  masters  have  represented  her. 
We  feel  tempted  to  say  she  is  the  most  beautiful 
picture  of  a  woman  which  art  has  produced.  Her 
body  is  slightly  bent  forward;  her  two  arms  are 
raised,  and  her  hands  are  joined  in  prayer ;  her  left 
leg  is  a  little  in  advance,  as  she  makes  obeisance, — 
the  right  receding  with  bended  knee  towards  the 
rock ;  her  long  fair  hair  falling  down  her  wonderful 
back,  and  over  her  bosom,  between  her  two  arms. 
She  is  looking  straight  forward;  and  we  feel  that 
she  breathes  for  the  first  time :  but  it  seems  as  if  life 
had  not  yet  flowed  through  her  veins,  as  if  the 
adoring  God-turned  position  was  not  only  the  first 
dreamlike  movement,  but  as  if  the  Creator  himself 
had  formed  her,  and  called  her  from  her  slumber  in 
this  position. 

Once  more,  in  the  next  picture,  she  appears 
equally  great  and  beautiful.  The  tree  with  the 
serpent  divides  this  one  into  two  halves.  On  the 
left  is  the  temptation,  on  the  right  the  expulsion 
from  Paradise.  It  is  a  double  view,  therefore,  of  the 
same  life.  A  fat,  yellowish,  shining  serpent-skin  is 
coiled  round  the  stem  of  the  tree,  ending  above  in 
a  woman,  bending  down  from  the  boughs.  With 
the  right  hand  grasping  something  behind,  she  holds 
herself  firm,  reaching  down  with  the  other  the 
apple ;  which  Eve,  raising  desiringly  the  fingers  of 
her  opened  hand,  is  ready  to  catch,  almost  as  if  she 
beckoned  with  desire.  She  is  sitting  under  the  tree, 
as  though  she  had  knelt,  and  had  thus  fallen  on  her 


THE   EXPULSION   FROM   PARADISE.  337 

side.  The  direction  of  her  knee,  however,  is  turned 
away  from  the  tree  :  she  is  obliged  to  twist  round 
to  the  serpent ;  and  so  she  raises  her  beautiful  head, 
with  the  hair  fastened  up  on  her  stately  neck,  to  the 
serpent,  and  raises  her  arms  to  receive  the  fruit. 
Adam  stands  by  her  side.  He,  too,  bends  under  the 
tree  ;  he  has  grasped  a  bough  close  above  them,  and 
holds  it  firmly  drawn  down ;  the  other  hand  he 
thrusts  into  the  foliage  of  the  tree,  over  the  head  of 
the  serpent  bending  down  to  Eve,  and  his  forefinger 
is  curved,  as  if  he  was  going  to  pluck  something. 
The  meaning  of  the  movement  seems  to  be  this ; 
that,  while  Adam  stands  still  in  doubt  whether  he 
shall  take  or  not,  Eve  has  already  accomplished  the 
deed.  Eve's  whole  appearance  is  different  from 
that  which  she  had  in  the  former  picture.  The 
lines  are  stronger  here :  she  appears  more  slender, 
more  mature,  more  womanly :  there  is  no  longer 
the  trembling,  respectful  being ;  but  we  see  surer 
thoughts,  and  a  fixed  longing. 

What  annihilation,  however,  in  the  scene  close 
behind  it !  The  angel  stretches  out  his  arm  with 
the  sword  over  them,  so  that  arm  and  sword  form  a 
horizontal  line.  Thus  he  drives  them  before  him,  — 
the  two  who,  once  so  proud  and  royal,  are  now 
hastening  stealthily  away  with  timid  step,  and  heads 
bent  down :  Adam  attempting  with  both  arms  and 
hands  to  make  an  imploring  movement  towards  the 
angel ;  Eve,  however,  with  head  still  deeper  bent 
than  his,  and  her  beautiful  back  curved  like  a  beaten 
animal ;  full  of  despair,  she  crosses  her  arms  on 
her  bosom,  and  thrusts  her  clenched  hand  into  her 

VOL.  I.  15  V 


338  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

golden  hair.  Still,  however,  she  looks  round  to  the 
angel.  Adam  ventures  not  to  do  so ;  he  cannot 
endure  the  sight  of  avenging  Justice,  and  of  the 
lost  Paradise ;  he  strides  heavily  forward,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  his  path  ;  she,  however,  looks  aside,  and  up 
at  the  angel :  does  a  glimmer  of  curiosity  even  here 
flash  through  her  despair?  With  firm  steps  they 
thus  advance,  misery  weighing  heavily  upon  them : 
but  still  they  are  rather  exiled  Titans  than  unhappy 
mortals ;  and  Eve's  beauty,  veiled  by  sorrow,  shines 
forth  all  the  more  powerfully. 

The  next  painting  represents  Abel's  and  Cain's 
different  sacrifices ;  *  the  one  following  that,  the 
Deluge.  The  former  has  nothing  especially  striking 
in  it ;  the  latter  loses  its  effect  from  another  circum- 
stance, —  it  is  that  with  which  Michael  Angelo  be- 
gan. He  wanted  experience  for  the  size  of  the  figures 
in  proportion  with  the  depth  from  which  they  would 
be  subsequently  viewed.  For  this  reason  he  drew 
them  in  less  colossal  proportions  ;  we  find  a  number 
of  figures  which  appear  diminutive  compared  with 
those  of  the  other  paintings.  In  the  midst  of  the 
flood,  we  see  the  ark  with  its  broadside  facing  us, 
and  the  men  who  are  clinging  to  it.  In  the  fore- 
ground there  is  a  vessel,  which,  overladen  with  un- 
fortunate beings,  has  drawn  water,  and  is  perishing. 
Quite  in  the  front  is  the  summit  of  a  mountain, 
rising  like  an  island  out  of  the  waves.  Fugitives 
are  scrambling  upon  it ;  some  have  thrown  a  cloth 
over  a  tree,  to  form  a  tent,  which  affords  them  pro- 
tection against  storm  and  rain.  The  last  picture 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXII. 


THE  SISTIXE  CHAPEL  —  SIBYLS  AND  PROPHETS.        339 

represents  the  drunkenness  of  Noah.  I  speak  less 
fully  of  all  three,  because  of  their  inferiority  com- 
pared with  the  others.  This  is  more,  however,  on 
account  of  their  subjects,  than  because  less  power 
is  displayed  in  them.  Nothing  can  bear  a  compari- 
son with  those  first  ones ;  and,  as  it  is  not  requisite 
to  give  a  catalogue  of  all  that  Michael  Angelo  has 
painted,  but  only  accurately  to  describe  whatever 
may  be  recognized  as  a  visible  step  towards  increas- 
ing perfection,  we  shall  only  give  prominence  to  his 
greatest  works. 

3. 

"We  have  said  that  the  triangular  spaces  of  the 
dome  ran  down  the  side  walls,  between  the  windows. 
On  the  broad  walls  there  were  five  of  these ;  on  the 
narrower,  only  one,  and  this  exactly  in  the  centre. 
In  these  twelve  compartments,  Michael  Angelo 
painted  twelve  immense  figures,  which,  touching 
with  their  heads  the  cornice  of  the  architectural 
effect  he  had  contrived,  are  so  drawn  in  perspec- 
tive, as  if  they  were  sitting  round  the  interior  of 
the  great  marble  temple,  examining  the  subject 
of  the  paintings  which  lie  in  the  centre  of  the 
ceiling  above  them. 

In  the  legends  of  the  earliest  ages  of  the  earth, 
men  appear  more  beautiful,  more  gigantic,  and 
filled  with  simpler,  stronger  passions,  than  at  the 
present  day.  They  were  but  few  in  number,  walk- 
ing over  the  untouched  soil,  and  passing  along  like 
solitary  lions.  Greece  is  like  a  wood  in  spring,  in 
which  Olympus  and  other  mountains  rise,  down 


840  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

whose  slopes  rushing  streams  hurry  towards  the 
waves  of  a  sunny  sea;  Asia,  an  immense  pasture- 
land  for  the  flocks  of  Abraham,  or  the  theatre 
of  the  contests  before  Ilium,  the  reverberations  of 
which  made  the  whole  earth  tremble,  so  that  men 
and  gods  hastened  round  to  await  the  issue  of  the 
strife. 

There  is  an  epoch  in  the  legends  of  nations,  when 
the  union  of  the  human  and  the  divine  produced  a 
giant-like  generation  of  Titans,  long  anterior  to  our 
own ;  and  who,  dwelling  for  centuries  in  deep  cav- 
erns, are  to  rise  anew  at  some  future  day. 

It  is  as  if  Michael  Angelo  had  seen  this  creation 
in  imagination,  when  he  painted  his  sibyls  and 
prophets.  Reading,  meditating,  or  transported  to 
rapture,  they  sit  in  their  places  there,  as  if  thoughts 
filled  them,  over  which  they  had  brooded  for*  ages. 
One  could  imagine  that  these  men  and  women  had 
long  ago  descended  into  the  hidden  clefts  of  the 
earth,  and,  lost  in  reverie,  had,  when  they  had 
ascended  on  waking  anew,  found  the  earth  again 
pure  and  untouched,  and  surmised  nothing  of  what 
had  passed  in  the  history  of  mortals  during  those  ten 
or  twenty  thousand  years  which  they  had  dreamed 
away. 

I  will  not  describe  these  figures,  the  whole  series 
of  which  it  would  be  very  possible  to  express  in 
words ;  and  yet  to  do  it  justly  is  a  work  for  which  I 
feel  myself  scarcely  capable.  For  it  would  demand 
not  merely  a  clear  enumeration  of  the  outward  attri- 
butes and  attitudes  to  be  observed  in  them,  but  a 
history  of  their  position  in  Italian  art,  and  a  com- 


SIBYLS   AND   PEOPHETS.  341 

parison  of  their  character  as  shown  by  the  Old 
Testament,  with  Michael  Angelo's  conception.  He 
knew  the  Bible,  and  read  it  again  and  again ;  he  had 
besides  ecclesiastical  traditions  respecting  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  sibyls  and  prophets.  It  would  require 
more  accurate  study  than  I  have  given  to  them,  to 
perceive  how  much  was  borrowed,  and  how  much 
was  his  own  idea. 

All  twelve  figures  together  seem  to  express  the 
human  mind  lost  in  biblical  mysteries ;  from  the 
dreamy  surmising  of  things,  through  every  stage  of 
conscious  thought,  up  to  the  beholding  of  truth  itself 
in  an  ecstacy  of  the  highest  rapture.  The  idea 
of  representing  the  degrees  of  earthly  knowledge, 
accumulating,  as  it  were,  in  different  persons,  was 
not  unusual.  Beautiful  was  the  way  in  which  the 
employment  of  the  four  evangelists,  in  the  sublimest 
of  writings,  was  represented.  The  cross  vault  of  a 
chapel  was  divided  into  four  triangles.  In  the  centre 
the  symbol  of  the  Trinity  was  painted,  one  evangelist 
in  each  triangle.  The  one,  listening  to  an  angel, 
whose  words  seem  to  him  worth  recording ;  the 
second,  as  he  raises  his  hand  to  dip  in  his  pen : 
the  third,  as  he  dips  it  in ;  the  fourth,  lastly,  as  he 
lays  his  hand  with  the  pen  on  the  page,  and  begins 
to  write. 

Here,  however,  where  far  higher  matters  were 
concerned,  twelve  figures  scarcely  sufficed.  We  se 
the  prophet  Jeremiah,  his  feet  crossed  under  him, 
bent  forward,  supporting  the  elbow  of  his  left  arm 
against  his  side,  and  his  hand  across  his  mouth, 
buried  in  the  great  beard  of  his  leaning  "head,  the 


342  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

image  of  the  deepest,  calmest  thought.*  In  the  next 
compartment  we  see  the  Persian  sibyl,  an  old  woman 
veiled  in  drapery,  holding  the  book  in  which  she  is 
reading  with  both  hands  close  to  her  eyes.  Then 
Ezekiel,  his  body  eagerly  bent  forward,  his  right 
hand  stretched  out  demonstratively,  his  left  hold- 
ing an  unrolled  parchment ;  it  is  as  if  we  saw  the 
thoughts  revolving  in  his  mind.  Then,  again,  a 
picture,  the  mere  gazing  at  which  insensibly  excites 
enthusiasm,  —  the  Erythraean  sibyl,  a  wonderfully 
beautiful  female  form. 

She  is  sitting,  seen  in  profile,  turned  to  the  right ; 
one  leg,  with  the  uncovered  foot  suspended,  placed 
over  the  other ;  and  in  the  beautifully  arranged  folds 
of  the  dress,  which  are  drawn  round  her  by  this 
position,  the  hand  of  the  bare  left  arm  has  sunk  as 
if  it  rested  in  them.  Bent  forward,  she  is  turning 
with  her  right  hand  over  the  leaves  of  a  book  lying 
before  her  on  a  desk.  A  lamp,  hanging  by  chains 
above  her,  is  lighted  with  a  torch  by  a  naked  boy. 

Next  comes  the  prophet  Joel,  unrolling  with  both 
hands  a  ,parchment  lying  before  him ;  and  the  play 
of  muscles  round  his  beardless  mouth  indicate  that 
he  is  weighing  mentally  what  he  has  read.  Then 
comes  Zacharias,  entirely  absorbed  in  his  book  as  if 
he  would  never  leave  off  reading.  Next,  the  Delphic 
sibyl,  young,  beautiful,  quite  in  the  front,  with  an 
upturned  look  of  rapture,  while  a  soft  gust  of  wind 
blows  her  hair  aside,  over  which  hangs  a  sea-green 
veil ;  and  the  bluish  mantle  likewise  is  distended  soft- 
ly and  fully  like  a  sail.  The  folds  of  the  drapery, 

*  See  Appendix,  Xote  LXIII. 


SIBYLS    AND   PEOPHETS.  848 

fastened  closely  by  a  girdle  below  the  bosom,  are 
magnificent.  Then  comes  Isaiah,  with  a  slightly 
wrinkled  brow,  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand 
stretched  out,  the  right  grasping  the  leaves  of  a 
closed  book.  Next  is  the  Cumaean  sibyl,  with  half- 
opened  lips  unconsciously  expressing  what  she  reads. 
And  then  comes  Daniel. 

Before  him  is  a  boy,  holding  on  his  back  an  open 
book ;  he,  however,  a  beautiful  youth,  looking  side- 
ways past  it  into  the  depths  below,  seems  to  listen  to 
the  words  which  reach  him ;  and,  forgetting  that  he 
has  no  pen  in  his  hand,  he  makes  a  movement  of 
writing  with  the  right  on  another  book,  which  lies  at 
his  side  upon  a  desk. 

Then  comes  the  Libyan  sibyl,  who,  with  a  quick 
movement  of  her  whole  body,  seizes  a  book  lying 
behind  her,  as  if  she.  must  at  once  read  something 
in  it.  Lastly,  Jonah,  who,  lying  backwards  naked 
with  only  a  cloth  round  his  body,  has  been  just  dis- 
charged from  the  jaws  of  the  fish,  which  is  visible 
behind  him.  The  restored  light  of  day  fills  him  with 
dazzling  ecstasy.  We  see  him,  as  it  were,  as  an 
earthly  symbol  of  immortality.  The  fore-shortening 
of  the  figure  is  exceedingly  artistic.  It  is  painted 
on  an  arch  inclining  towards  us,  yet  it  seems  to 
recede. 

Under  this  prophet,  who  occupies  the  centre  of 
one  of  the  narrower  walls  of  the  chapel,  Michael 
Angelo,  thirty  years  afterwards,  painted  the  Last 
Judgment,  which  covers  the  entire  wall  from  top  to 
bottom,  —  the  chief  work  of  his  old  age,  as  the 
paintings  on  the  ceiling  were  the  greatest  deed  of  his 


344  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

youth.  Worthy  symbols  both  of  the  time  of  lile  in 
which  he  produced  them.  For,  natural  as  it  seems, 
that  in  his  earlier  years  he  should  apprehend  and 
fashion  the  remote,  divine  beginning  of  things,  just 
as  appropriate  is  it,  that,  as  an  old  man,  he  should 
attempt  to  represent  the  end  of  the  infinite  future. 

4. 

I  will  select  but  two  out  of  all  the  remaining 
pictures  to  describe.  In  the  four  corners  of  the 
chapel,  the  dome  forms  four  triangles,  on  which  are 
represented  the  death  of  Haman,  the  serpent  in  the 
wilderness,  the  death  of  Goliath,  and  Judith  and 
Holofernes.  I  take  the  two  last  paintings,  in  order 
to  show  with  what  art  Michael  Angelo  could  conceive 
that,  too,  which  was  truly  historical, — we  might 
almost  call  it  here,  in  contrast  to  those  superior 
works,  genre  painting.* 

He  always  seized  the  decisive  moment,  —  that 
moment  so  fully  imbued  with  the  action,  that  what 
had  happened  before,  and  what  was  afterwards  to 
be  expected,  appear  at  once  comprised  in  it.  Few 
subjects,  however,  are  fitted  to  the  same  extent  for 
displaying  this  power  of  seizing  the  true  centre  of 
an  action,  as  the  legend  of  Judith.  This  drama 
contains  an  abundance  of  situations  for  the  play  of 
the  imagination ;  and,  in  the  choice  of  these,  in  ex- 
hibiting the  whole  subject  in  the  simplest  manner, 
Michael  Angelo's  genius  is  shown. 

We  see  Holofernes  lying  on  a  bed,  over  which  a 
white  cloth  is  laid.  One  arm  has  fallen  languidly 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXIV. 


JUDITH   AND   HOLOFEENES.  345 

down,  and  touches  the  ground  with  the  wrist ;  the 
other  grasps  in  the  air,  as  if  seeking  the  head  that  is 
no  longer  there.  One  leg,  with  the  knee  bent,  falls 
over  the  foot  of  the  bed,  as  if  the  bed  were  too  short ; 
the  other  is  raised  with  the  knee  drawn  up,  and  the 
foot  appears  on  the  couch. 

We  see  him  to  the  left,  somewhat  at  the  back  of 
a  tent,  to  which  some  steps  lead.  Judith  is  just 
descending  them,  coming  out  of  the  tent.  Her  back 
is  towards  us,  because,  turning  round,  she  looks  to 
Holofernes  ;  while,  with  uplifted  hands,  she  holds  on 
the  other  side  a  cloth  spread  out,  to  cover  the  cut- 
off head,  which  the  maid  is  bearing  on  her  head,  in 
a  large,  shallow  dish.  The  maid  has  on  a  yellowish 
dress,  broken  by  strong,  heavy  folds ;  for  she  stands 
with  her  knees  somewhat  bent,  that  her  mistress 
may  more  easily  cover  the  head  in  the  dish  with 
the  cloth.  She  holds  the  dish  firmly  up  with  both 
arms.  A  light-blue  handkerchief  encircles  her  waist, 
over  the  golden  dress. 

Judith  wears  a  grayish-blue  garment  over  her 
breast  and  shoulders,  on  which  the  lights  are  laid 
on  with  gold.  The  position  of  the  maid,  as  she  tries 
to  make  herself  lower,  but,  at  the  same  time,  holds 
her  back  stiffly,  that  the  burden  on  her  head  may 
not  lose  its  balance ;  the  double  feeling  of  Judith, 
who,  at  the  point  of  throwing  the  cloth  quickly  over 
the  cut-off  head,  and  then  hastening  away,  is  sud- 
denly alarmed  by  the  thought  that  he  might  still 
awake,  and,  with  raised  hands,  casts  one  more  glance 
upon  him,  is,  in  the  highest  degree,  speaking  and 
exciting.  The  strong,  bare  form,  lying  there  like  a 

15* 


346  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

slain  beast,  makes  ,us  understand  the  sudden  sh ad- 
der of  the  woman,  and  feel  with  it.  A  warrior, 
sunk  in  sleep,  in  the  background,  indicates  the 
night,  under  shelter  of  which  the  deed  was  accom- 
plished. 

Does  not  this  representation  contain  every  tiling  ? 
We  see  before  us  what  has  happened ;  the  haste, 
subdued  by  trembling,  with  which  the  women  steal 
through  the  dark  camp ;  we  see  behind,  the  dissim- 
ulation, the  anxiety,  the  fanaticism,  which  steeled 
her  weak  arm.  And,  in  contrast  to  this,  the  un- 
thinking strength  of  the  man  who  is  chosen  as  the 
victim.  This  is  the  pith  of  the  poem.  As  a  luxu- 
rious, captivating  woman,  Judith  is  insufferable ;  as 
a  trembling  woman,  with  a  will  that  works  more 
powerfully  than  her  fear,  she  is  a  thrilling,  true 
character.  Thus  Michael  Angelo  conceived  her. 

With  the  same  truth  he  represents  Goliath,  over 
whom  David  prevails.  As  the  colossus  lies  there 
on  his  stomach,  while  David  indents  his  back  with 
the  point  of  his  knee,  we  become  convinced  that  the 
movements  of  the  strong  arms  and  legs,  which  would 
again  rise  in  resistance,  must  be  in  vain.  With 
the  left  hand,  David  seizes  him  by  the  hair ;  with  the 
right  hand  he  brandishes  a  short,  broad,  knife-like 
sword:  we  fancy  we  can  hear  it  whiz  as  it  cuts 
through  the  air ;  and  we  know,  beforehand,  that  it 
has  been  fatally  plunged  through  his  neck.  Goliath 
wears  a  green,  close-fitting,  mail-like  dress  ;  legs  and 
feet  are  covered  in  the  same  way,  with  dark  gray ; 
the  arms  white,  with  straps  of  gold.  David  wears  a 
light-blue  under-dress,  and  a  yellowish-green,  man- 


DAVID   AND   GOLIATH.  347 

tie-like  garment,  fastened  in  a  knot  on  the  shoulder. 
This  painting,  and  that  of  Judith,  is  clear  and  dis- 
tinguishable by  any  light,  as  also  are  all  the  pictures 
in  the  centre  of  the  dome ;  and,  therefore,  these  meet 
the  eye  as  the  real  substance  of  the  Sistine  paintings. 
The  prophets  and  sibyls  are,  from  their  number, 
more  difficult  to  see  ;  that,  hoAvever,  which  has  been 
painted  still  deeper  than  they,  close  round  the  win- 
dow, is  only  discernible  in  its  outline  to  the  attentive 
eye,  after  laborious  examination.  We  must  ascend 
the  small  gallery,  and  gain  the  assistance  of  a  good 
glass,  if  the  whole  greatness  of  these  works  is  to  be 
revealed.  It  is  true,  that,  thus  near,  we  see  doubly 
plainly  all  the  little  flaws  and  spots  which  seem  to 
be  drawn  like  a  veil  over  the  paintings ;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  we  see  more  clearly  the  turn  of  the  lines, 
and  the  simple  means  by  which  the  light  transpar- 
ent coloring  is  obtained,  and  which,  for  ceiling 
painting, — when  the  effect  is  to  be  produced  at  such 
a  distance,  —  is  indispensable. 

Condivi's  narrative,  and,  more  plainly  still,  a  let- 
ter, written  shortly  before  the  uncovering  of  the 
work,  shows  that  on  the  1st  November,  1509,  the 
one -half  of  these  compositions  was  completed. 
"  Buonarroto,"  writes  Michael  Angelo,  "  I  see  from 
your  last  letter  that  you  are  all  well,  and  our  father 
has  again  obtained  employment.  I  am  thoroughly 
glad  of  this,  and  advocate  his  acceptance  of  it  m  any 
manner,  if  the  situation  is  of  such  a  kind  as  to  loave 
him  at  liberty  to  return,  if  necessary,  to  Florence. 
I  go  on  here  as  usual.  My  painting  will  be  finished 
next  week,  that  is,  the  part  which  is  in  course  of 


348  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

execution ;  as  soon  as  I  have  uncovered  it,  I  hope 
to  receive  money,  and  will  try  and  arrange  to  ob- 
tain a  month's  furlough  at  Florence.  I  know  not 
whether  it  will  come  to  any  thing ;  I  might  require 
it,  for  my  health  is  none  of  the  best."* 

And  then,  as  the  last  notice  of  this  year,  comes 
the  success  which  brought  Michael  Angelo  all  his 
well-earned  fame.  He  had  worked  desperately.  In 
ten  months  the  half  of  the  immense  surface  had  been 
filled  with  paintings  by  him.  One  of  his  sonnets 
describes  in  a  burlesque  manner  his  condition, — 
how  he  lay  day  after  day  on  his  back,  and  the  colors 
dropped  down  on  his  face.  His  eyes  had  become  so 
accustomed  to  looking  up,  that,  for  a  long  while  after- 
wards, he  was  obliged  to  hold  up  any  thing  written, 
that  he  might  read  it  with  his  head  bent  back,  —  a 
result  of  similar  work  which  Vasari  confirms  from 
his  own  experience ;  and,  as  a  close  to  it  all,  bodily 
exhaustion,  no  leave  for  home,  and  no  pay.  Shortly 
before  All  Saints'  Day,  he  writes  to  his  father  that  the 
painting  has  been  displayed  in  the  chapel ;  and  that 
the  pope  was  well  contented  with  it,  and  expressed 
himself  to  that  effect.  Otherwise,  however,  he  had 
not  succeeded  at  once,  as  he  had  expected.  The 
times  were  against  art ;  he  could  neither  come  to 
Florence,  nor  had  he  that  in  his  hands  which  he 
required  for  what  he  wanted  to  do :  he  means  money 
to  help  his  father.  "  But  once  more,"  he  says,  in 
conclusion,  "  the  times  are  not  in  our  favor  ;  so  take 
care  of  your  health,  and  don't  let  gray  hairs 
grow."  f 

•  See  Appendix,  Note  LXV.  t  fbid.,  Note  LXVT. 


RAPHAEL.  340 

And  to  all  this  were  now  added  the  intrigues  of 
Bramante,  who  endeavored  to  place  the  continua- 
tion of  the  painting  in  Raphael's  hands.  About 
the  time  when  these  works  were  begun,  Raphael 
had  appeared  in  Rome.  Bramante  had  brought 
him  there,  supported,  as  it  seems,  by  the  ducal 
family  of  Urbino,  who  at  that  time  were  closely 
allied  with  the  pope.  Raphael  had  worked  in  the 
apartments  of  the  Vatican  palace,  during  their 
rebuilding,  with  the  other  masters  who  were  called 
for  this  purpose.  His  first  picture,  the  Dispute  of 
the  Sacrament,  had  suddenly  raised  him  above  all ; 
and  Bramante  saw  in  him  the  man  who  was  now 
able  to  play  that  part  against  Michael  Angelo,  which 
the  latter  had  himself  acted  towards  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  in  the  palace  of  the  Government  at  Florence. 


3oO  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTH. 

1510—1512. 

Raphael  compared  with  Michael  Angelo  —  Raphael's  Sonnets  — 
Raphael's  Portrait  of  his  Beloved  One  in  the  Barbcrini  Palace 

—  Michael  Angelo's  Poems  —  Continuation  of  the  Paintings  in 
the  Sistine  Chapel  —  Melancholy  State  of  Mind  —  Letters  to 
his  Brothers  and  Father  —  Journey  to  the  Pope  at  Bologna — 
Siege  and.  Fall  of  Mirandula — The  War  of  Julius  II.  for  Bologna 

—  Loss  of  the  City — Evil  Condition  and  Mind  of  the  Pope  — 
Raphael's  Pictures  in  the   Vatican  —  Cardinal   Giovanni   dei 
Medici  as  Legate  at  Bologna  —  March  against  the  City  —  De- 
struction of  Julius's  Statue  —  Taking  of  Bologna — The  Medici 
with  the  Spanish  Army  before  Florence  —  Flight  of  Soderini  — 
Restoration  of  the  Medici. 

TTE  who  insists  upon  thinking  of  these  two  great- 
L-*-  est  artists  as  contentious  adversaries,  may  be 
at  any  rate  set  right  on  this  matter  by  the  little  that 
is  preserved  of  their  personal  behavior  towards  each 
other.  Such  inferences,  however,  are  in  themselves 
unjust.  We  see,  indeed,  Raphael  and  Michael  An- 
gelo made  into  heads  of  parties.  Raphael  appears 
from  the  first  as  prejudiced  ;  he  had  men  round  him 
who  incited  him  against  Michael  Angelo,  and  in  the 
latter  himself  we  discover  nothing  of  a  conciliatory 
nature  ;  he  thrust  aside  whatever  was  not  congenial 
to  him.  His  adherents  and  those  of  Raphael  dis- 
puted. There  is,  however,  no  trace  that  the  two 
masters  actually  took  the  parts  which  were  so  urged 


Y.'I.IKiU.  A.lliirrrr 


RAPHAEL  COMPARED  WITH  MICHAEL  ANGELO.   351 

upon  them  by  their  followers.  Whatever  in  this 
respect  is  interpreted  otherwise,  is  falsely  inter- 
preted ;  because  it  is  against  a  law  of  nature  which 
can  suffer  no  opposition. 

Excellence  forms  an  indestructible  fellowship  be- 
tween those  who  possess  it.  All  great  ones,  tower- 
ing above  the  common  multitude  of  mortals,  feel 
themselves  indissolubly  united ;  their  condition  is 
too  solitary  for  them  not  to  seek  each  other  at  any 
price.  Around  the  two  men,  envy  and  jealousy 
may  have  vented  themselves  in  intrigues ;  but,  in 
the  high  regions  of  their  truest  nature,  each  felt 
too  keenly  his  own  and  the  other's  value ;  and,  sepa- 
rate as  they  remained,  outwardly  considered,  they 
yet  stood  close  together,  because  nothing  sufficiently 
exalted  to  divide  them  reached  the  heights  to  which 
they  had  attained. 

Raphael  pursued  after  Michael  Angclo's  fame, 
just  as  the  latter  had  once  endeavored  to  surpass 
Leonardo's  greatness.  Raphael  painted  in  the  apart- 
ments of  the  Vatican,  a  few  steps  removed  from  the 
chapel  in  which  Michael  Angelo's  scaffolding  stood. 
They  must  have  often  met  in  the  palace,  through 
which  the  way  to  the  chapel  leads :  how  did  they 
regard  each  other  ?  In  that  expression  of  Michael 
Angelo'p,  uttered  long  after  Raphael's  death,  —  that 
whatever  Raphael  knew  in  matters  of  architecture 
lie  had  learned  from  him,  —  there  lies  nothing  de- 
preciatory. Corneillo  could  have  said  the  same  of 
Racine,  who,  so  much  younger,  had  been  less  great 
but  for  him ;  Goethe  could  have  expressed  the  same 
of  Schiller.  When -men  like  Michael  Angelo,  Cor- 


352  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

neille,  and  Goethe,  have  gone  before,  all  that  come 
later  must  tread  in  their  footsteps;  this,  too,  is  a 
law  of  nature,  as  certain  in  its  operation  as  if  it 
concerned  chemical  affinities.  Far  more  important 
are  those  words  of  Michael  Angelo, —  that  Raphael 
did  not  get  so  far  by  his  genius,  but  by  his  industry. 
This  appears  as  the  highest  acknowledgment  from 
his  lips. 

Industry  can  here  mean  nothing  else  than  the 
success  that  an  artist  seeks  in  the  unwearied  im- 
provement of  his  work.  Industry  is  not  persevering 
activity  or  diligence  in  general,  which  allows  itself 
no  rest,  but  absorption  in  the  one  thing  to  be  accom- 
plished ;  a  creative  longing  to  work  out  the  mental 
image  into  visible  form,  delight  in  keeping  the  sub- 
ject in  due  balance  with  the  outward  appearance, 
and  the  desire  to  gain  power  to  satisfy  it.  What  is 
commonly  called  industry  is  diligent  care  to  master 
the  material,  so  as  in  one  day  to  make  evident  prog- 
ress ;  compared,  however,  with  that  mental  industry 
which  Michael  Angelo  awards  to  Raphael,  this  ma- 
terial industry  sinks  down  only  into  somewhat  that 
is  a  matter  of  course.  An  artist,  such  as  Michael 
Angelo  considers  him,  reckons  his  work,  after  the 
utmost  effort,  as  still  unfinished.  He  says,  I  was 
obliged  to  pause ;  I  could  go  no  farther.  Most  con- 
scientious in  this  was  certainly  Leonardo,  who  would 
have  liked  to  have  given  up  none  of  his  pictures,  as 
long  as  he  lived.  Thus  also  did  Goethe  work,  who, 
till  his  old  age,  retained  works  he  had  begun  when 
young,  because  the  feeling  never  left  him  of  how 
much  there  was  yet  to  improve  in  them. 


RAPHAEL.  353 

Michael  Angelo  stood  alone  in  Rome,  when  he 
painted  the  Sistiue  Chapel.  He  had  only  the  pope 
on  his  side :  the  artists  nocked  around  Raphael  and 
Bramante.  Sansovino,  too,  came  at  that  time  to 
the  city,  —  Michael  Angelo's  old'  competitor  from 
Florence,  —  and  produced  wonderful  works  in  mar- 
ble. Michael  Angelo  was  no  longer  young ;  gloomy 
and  austere,  he  separated  the  genuine  from  the 
counterfeit  with  inexorable  severity:  Raphael  was 
at  the  beginning  of  the  twenties,  amiable,  cheerful, 
helpful,  with  that  charm  of  victorious  superiority, 
by  which  love  is  awakened,  and  which,  unenvious 
itself,  turns  into  good-will  the  envy  of  others ;  pro- 
tected at  the  same  time  at  court,  not  merely  by 
Bramante,  but  patronized  and  drawn  into  the  high- 
est society  by  the  Duke  of  Urbino  and  his  ladies, 
who,  as  near  relatives  of  the  pope,  played  the  most 
brilliant  part  in  Rome. 

Raphael  had  one  excellence,  which,  perhaps,  as 
long  as  the  world  stands,  no  other  artist  has  possessed 
to  such  an  extent,  —  his  works  suit  more  closely 
the  average  of  the  human  mind.  There  is  no  line 
drawn  above  or  below.  Michael  Angelo's  ideals 
belong  to  a  nobler,  stronger  generation,  as  if  he  had 
had  demigods  in  his  mind,  just  as  Schiller's  poetical 
forms,  in  another  manner,  often  outstep  the  measure 
of  the  ordinary  mortal.  Raphael,  however,  like  Goe- 
the and  Shakespeare,  hits  off  the  true.  He  seems  t( 
create  as  nature  creates.  He  raises  no  cloudy  pal 
aces  in  which  we  seem  too  small,  but  human  dwell- 
ing-places, through  whose  doors  we  enter  in,  and 
feel  that  we  are  at  home  there.  He  is  intelligible 


354  LIFE    OF    MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

in  every  movement ;  he  conforms  in  every  line  to  the 
sense  of  heauty  in  man,  as  if  it  were  impossible  to 
draw  them  otherwise  ;  and  the  delight  which  he 
-thus  diffuses  upon  the  beholder,  who  feels  himself 
enchanted  as  his  equal,  gives  his  works  their  power, 
and  invests  him  with  the  lustre  of  happy  perfection. 
Infinitely  much  as  he  has  done,  we  cannot  believe 
that  he  has  ever  wearied  himself  with  exertions ;  we 
would  not  allow  that  he  had  ever  been  unhappy, 
just  as  we  should  not  believe  it  of  either  Goethe  or 
Shakespeare.  Nothing  particularly  takes  hold  of 
him ;  we  look  in  vain  for  dark  corners  in  his  soul, 
in  which  sad  thoughts  could  nestle  like  webs  in 
damp,  deserted  chambers.  Contented,  like  a  tree, 
which,  laden  with  fruit,  seems  happy  in  spite  of  its 
groaning  branches,  he  stands  there  ;  and  the  admira- 
tion which  surrounds  him  is  not  what  increased  his 
happiness,  or  diminished  it  when  it  was  denied  him. 
Such  men  pass  through  life  as  a  bird  flies  through 
the  air.  Nothing  hinders  them.  It  is  all  one  to  the 
stream,  whether  it  flows  through  the  plain  smoothly 
in  one  long  line,  or  meanders  round  rocks  in  its 
winding  course.  It  is  no  circuitous  way  for  it,  thus 
to  be  driven  right  and  left  in  its  broad  course  ;  it  is 
sensible  of  no  delay  when  its  course  is  completely 
dammed.  Swelling  easily,  it  widens  out  into  the 
lake,  until  at  length  it  forces  a  path  for  its  waves ; 
and  the  power  with  which  it  now  dashes  on  is  just 
as  natural  as  the  repose  with  which  it  had  before 
changed  its  course.  Raphael,  Goethe,  and  Shake- 
speare had  scarcely  outward  destinies.  They  inter- 
fered with  no  apparent  power  in  the  struggles  of 


KAPHAEL.  355 

their  people.  They  enjoyed  life ;  they  worked ;  they 
went  their  way,  and  compelled  no  one  to  follow 
them.  They  obtruded  themselves  on  none  ;  and 
they  asked  not  the  world  to  consider  them,  or  to  do 
as  they  did.  But  the  others  all  came  of  themselves, 
and  drew  from  their  refreshing  streams.  Can  we 
mention  a  violent  act  of  Raphael's,  Goethe's,  or 
Shakespeare's?  Goethe,  who  seems  so  deeply  in- 
volved in  all  that  concerns  us,  who  is  the  author 
of  our  mental  culture,  nowhere  opposed  events ;  he 
turned  wherever  he  could  advance  most  easily.  He 
was  diligent.  He  had  in  his  mind  the  completion 
of  his  works.  Schiller  wished  to  produce  and  to 
gain  influence ;  Michael  Angelo  wished  to  act,  and 
could  not  bear  that  lesser  men  should  stand  in  the 
front  over  whom  he  felt  himself  master.  The  course 
of  events  moved  Michael  Angelo,  and  animated  or 
checked  his  ideas.  It  is  not  possible  to  extricate  the 
consideration  of  his  life  from  the  events  going  on  in 
the  world,  while  Raphael's  life  can  be  narrated  sep- 
arately like  an  idyl. 

"We  know  not  much  of  Raphael's  experiences ; 
almost  as  little  actual  information  exists  respecting 
him  as  Leonardo.  The  imagination  of  the  people, 
however,  has  but  little  cared  for  this.  We  have  a 
house  where  he  dwelt  in  Rome,  a  coffee-house  which 
he  frequented,  the  house  of  his  beloved  one,  of  whose 
name  and  circumstances  we  are  informed ;  we  have 
stories,  of  which  he  forms  the  central  point,  of  his 
childlike  old  age  in  Urbino,  until  his  death,  which 
carried  him  off'  in  Rome  in  the  prime  of  life.  As 
Frederick  the  Great  ever  appears  to  his  people  as  the 


356  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

old  king  leaning  on  his  staff,  so  Raphael  seems  al- 
ways as  the  beautiful  youth,  the  earthly  type  of  tht 
archangel  whose  name  he  bears ;  and  so  completely 
has  every  one  who  has  written  of  him  availed  him- 
self of  the  freedom  of  judging  and  representing  facts 
according  to  the  idea  which  he  entertained  of  him, 
that  at  last  truth  and  poetry  are  no  longer  to  be 
distinguished.* 

Raphael  came  to  Rome  in  the  summer  of  1508. 
He  was  not  so  young  when  he  entered  the  city  as 
Michael  Angelo  was  when  the  latter  first  saw  it. 
What  a  multitude  of  works,  however,  had  Raphael 
at  that  time  already  completed,  compared  with  the 
few,  yet  more  mighty  ones,  which  Michael  Angelo  had 
produced  at  the  sanue  age !  Michael  Angelo  worked 
by  fits ;  at  times  with  unusual  intensity,  then  again 
for  a  long  time  lying  fallow,  absorbed  in  books  and 
philosophical  studies.  Raphael  knew  no  seasons ; 
bearing  always  blossom  and  fruit  at  the  same  time, 
he  seems  to  have  felt  in  himself  an  inexhaustible 
abundance  of  vital  power,  and  to  have  poured  it 
forth  upon  all  around  him. 

This  it  is  which  shines  forth  even  in  his  earliest 
pictures.  They  are  not  at  all  peculiar  in  form  and 
idea.  Leonardo  sought  for  the  fantastic,  Michael 
Angelo  for  the  difficult  and  the  great ;  both  labored 
with  intense  accuracy ;  both  went  their  own  ways, 
and  impressed  the  stamp  of  nature  on  their  works. 
Raphael  proceeded  quietly,  often  advancing  in  the 
completion  only  to  a  certain  point,  at  which  he 
rested,  apparently  not  jealous  at  being  confounded 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXVII. 


RAPHAEL  —  FKA   BARTOLOMEO.  357 

with  others.  He  paints  at  first  in  the  fashion  of 
Perugino,  and  his  portraits  are  in  the  delicate  man- 
ner of  Leonardo :  a  certain  grace  is  almost  the  only 
characteristic  of  his  works.  At  length  he  finds  him- 
self in  Rome,  opposed  alone  to  Michael  Angelo : 
then  only  does  the  true  source  of  power  burst  out 
within  him ;  and  he  produces  works  which  stand  so 
high  above  all  his  former  ones,  that  the  air  of  Rome, 
which  he  breathed,  seemed  to  have  worked  wonders 
iii  him.  And  thus,  from  this  time,  his  progress  was 
on  the  ascent. 

Michael  Angelo's  influence  upon  his  early  advance 
in  Rome  is,  of  course,  out  of  the  question ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  Perugino's  is  no  less  so.  Raphael 
came  as  an  independent  man,  who  had  found  a  path 
for  himself.  If  he  owed  any  thing  to  any  earlier 
painter,  it  is  to  Fra  Bartolomeo,  whose  pupil  he  was 
in  Florence,  —  the  same  who,  in  former  times,  for 
love  of  Savonarola,  had  thrown  his  works  into  the 
fire ;  at  the  same  time  an  adherent  of  Vinci's,  whose 
manner  he  endeavored  to  adopt.  At  the  storming 
of  the  monastery  of  San  Marco,  he  belonged  to  those 
who  wished  to  defend  it ;  and,  when  the  contest  be- 
gan, he  made  a  vow  to  become  a  monk  if  he  got  off 
successfully.  In  the  year  1500,  he  entered  the  mon- 
astery, and,  for  some  time,  gave  up  painting  entirely. 
He  returned  to  it  again,  however,  subsequently,  and 
produced  a  great  number  of  excellent  works,  which, 
both  in  composition  and  coloring,  stand  higher  than 
Perugino's.  We  might  infer  an  influence  from  his 
character  upon  Raphael's,  since,  between  the  two, 
there  existed  a  lasting  and  almost  hearty  relation ; 


358  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

and  Raphael,  as  a  tender,  shy,  and  gently  pliable 
nature,  exhibited  in  Florence,  before  he  went  to 
Rome,  qualities  of  soul  which  are  to  be  read  in  Fra 
Bartolomeo's  works  just  as  plainly  as  beautifully, 
and  which  are  no  less  peculiar  to  Raphael's  Floren- 
tine paintings :  but,  in  Rome,  life  was  otherwise  to 
those  who  floated  onwards  in  its  stream ;  and  it  is 
nowhere  said  that  Raphael  sat  fearfully  apart  on  the 
shore. 

Bramante  recommended  him  to  the  pope.  Many 
painters  worked  in  the  Vatican ;  Raphael  was  as- 
signed his  room  like  the  rest.  As  his  first  Roman 
painting,  he  began  the  Disputa, — at  the  present  day, 
only  with  difficulty  discernible  as  regards  its  color- 
ing ;  but,  as  a  composition,  it  is  to  me  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  things  which  he  has  produced.  In 
the  same  room,  he  painted  one  wall  after  another; 
and,  after  he  had  completed  these,  the  ceiling,  from 
which  the  new  work  of  another  artist  was  taken 
down.  He  soon  gained  ground  in  the  palace,  and 
pupils  and  colleagues  surrounded  him.  He  pre- 
served the  ceiling  paintings  of  Perugino,  when  they 
began  to  stand  in  his  way ;  of  the  rest,  he  had  copies 
made,  before  they  were  committed  to  destruction. 
Raphael  worked,  and  superintended  work,  in  the 
apartments  of  the  Vatican  palace,  as  long  as  he 
lived. 

These  rooms,  four-cornered,  but  of  irregular  base, 
are  connected  en  suite  by  rather  insignificant  doors ; 
while  the  broad,  high  windows,  formerly  filled  with 
painted  glass,  break  up  the  walls.  Marble  seats  are 
placed  before  them ;  and  they  are  finished  with  the 


RAPHAEL.  359 

most  splendid  carving.  The  floor  is  mosaic :  the  vault 
of  the  ceiling  is  the  most  beautiful  intersection  of 
two  arches,  so  that  the  four  walls  of  the  apartment 
terminate  above  in  a  complete  half-circle,  whilst  the 
vault  tapers  to  a  point  at  each  corner.  Although 
every  thing  is  scratched,  dirtied,  and  weather-worn, 
there  is  still  a  breath  of  the  old  time  in  the  palace. 
We  can  in  fancy  again  see  the  colors  fresh,  the  gold 
of  the  decorations  new  and  bright,  and  the  sun  play- 
ing on  the  glowing,  gay  window-panes.  And  through 
the  door  we  can  imagine  Julius  coming,  slightly  bent, 
but  with  strong  step,  and  his  smooth,  fine,  snow- 
white  beard  falling  on  the  purple  velvet  cape,  which 
he  wears  over  his  long  under-garment  with  its  white 
folds ;  the  great  ruby  glittering  on  his  hand,  and 
his  flashing  eye  passing  over  the  paintings  which  his 
command  had  called  forth.  Julius  loved  Raphael. 
In  every  way  he  manifested  the  favor  of  which  he 
considered  him  worthy. 

Raphael  certainly  did  not  oppose  him,  as  Michael 
Angelo  had  done.  He  was  no  flatterer ;  but  his 
nature  urged  him  to  obtain  the  favor  of  men.  In 
what  a  childlike,  flattering  way  he  writes  in  those 
early  days  to  Francesco  Francia  at  Bologna,  whom  he 
had  long  ago  surpassed,  and  whose  works  and  energy 
he,  in  spite  of  this,  exalts  far  above  his  own,  as  if  it 
were  naturally  a  matter  of  course !  Francia,  however, 
sends  him  a  sonnet,  in  which  he  acknowledges  his 
greatness  so  beautifully,  and  in  such  strong,  simple 
words,  that,  from  evidence  such  as  this,  coming  from 
a  contemporary  artist,  we  can  conjecture  the  brilliant 
fame  which  the  genius  of  this  fortunate  youth  — 


360  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

fortunate  garzon,  as  Francia  calls  him — suddenly 
spread  around  him. 

This  sonnet  —  beginning  with  the  words,  "I  am 
neither  Zeuxis  nor  Apelles,  nor  one  of  those  great 
masters,  that  I  deserve  to  be  called  by  such  a  name  ; 
nor  are  my  talent  and  my  art  worthy  of  the  immortal 
praise  which  a  Raphael  awards  them'1 — seems  to 
imply,  that  it  was  an  answer  to  a  sonnet  sent  by 
Raphael,  in  which  Francia  was  addressed  with  such 
extravagant  flattery.  No  trace  of  it,  however,  exists. 
We  have  in  all  only  four  sonnets  of  Raphael's, — 
love-poems,  scribbled  on  the  sketches  of  the  Disputa, 
and  therefore  written  during  the  first  spring  or  sum- 
mer which  he  spent  in  Rome.  A  whole  romance  lies 
in  these  poems.  All  four  have  the  same  subject,  — 
passionate  remembrance  of  the  happiness  which  he 
experienced  in  the  arms  of  a  woman  to  whom  he  can 
return  no  more.  The  resignation,  the  longing  which 
fills  him,  the  rapture  with  which  he  recalls  the  hours 
when  she  came  in  the  depth  of  the  night,  and  was 
his,  are  ah1  poured  forth  in  his  verses.  We  feel  thai 
he  must  have  thrice  expressed  the  same,  because  it 
was  impossible  to  exhaust  the  feeling  in  words  ;  and, 
in  the  often-effaced  lines,  from  which  he  endeavored 
to  construct  the  sonnets,  there  lies  the  fire  of  that 
great  flame,  which  he  says  was  consuming  his  life. 
Not  one  of  Michael  Angelo's  poems  contains  such 
glowing  passion. 

Was  it  a  noble  lady  whom  Raphael  loved,  who 
once  came  to  him  "  at  midnight,  when  the  sun  had 
long  declined  ?  did  she  come  as  another  sun  rises, 
more  for  deeds  than  words  ?  "  She  had  suddenly 


RAPHAEL'S  SONNETS.  361 

disappeared ;  and  now  he  seeks  to  put  into  words  the 
dilettoso  affanno,  the  enchanting  torment,  the  victim 
of  which  he  had  been.  He  will  be  silent,  he  prom- 
ises, as  Paul  was  of  the  mysteries  of  heaven  when 
he  came  down  from  them ;  still  he  must  speak,  he 
says  in  another  poem :  but  the  more  he  desires  to 
speak,  the  more  impossible  is  it ;  and  at  length 
he  finds  his  only  comfort  in  the  consideration,  that 
it  would  have  been  perhaps  a  great  and  fatal  happi- 
ness to  have  enjoyed  it  again.  He  will  be  silent, 
but  he  cannot  cease  thinking  of  her ;  and  how  would 
this  be  possible,  when  he  still  fancies  he  feels  the  soft 
yoke  of  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  the  despair 
still  thrills  through  him  when  she  disengaged  herself 
from  him,  and  he  remained  in  the  dark  alone,  like  a 
mariner  at  sea  who  has  lost  his  star  ? 

We  know  not  whether  he  ever  met  her  again.  No 
intimation  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  his  letters  or  in 
Vasari, —  no  portrait  of  a  woman  which  we  could 
venture  to  suppose  to  be  she.  There  is  mention 
made  of  many  women  whom  Raphael  loved ;  but 
nothing  further  is  said  of  them  than  that  they  lived, 
and  that  they  were  his  beloved  ones. 

One  of  them  was  in  his  house  when  he  died ;  he 
had  settled  a  rich  annuity  upon  her,  like  a  good 
Christian,  says  Vasari.  Another  he  loved  when  he 
painted  in  Chigi's  summer-house.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  so  completely  absorbed  in  this  one,  that 
she  drew  him  from  his  work  ;  and  his  friends  could 
at  last  devise  nothing  better  than  to  bring  her  to 
him  on  the  scaffolding.  He  thus  had  her  the  whole 
day  to  himself,  and  continued  at  his  work. 

16 


362  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Raphael  painted  women  in  Rome  differently  than 
in  Florence.  In  the  portraits  which  he  left  behind 
there,  we  see  that  cheerful  repose  which  Leonardo 
knew  so  beautifully  how  to  express.  How  different 
the  female  portrait  in  the  Barberini  palace !  He 
painted  this  probably  in  his  early  days  at  Rome,  to 
represent  his  beloved  one,  even  if  not  the  Fornarina, 
as  she  has  been  subsequently  named.  Fornarina  is 
no  woman's  name  ;  the  word  denotes  the  baker's 
wife  or  daughter,  and  derives  its  origin  from  the 
story  that  Raphael  loved  the  daughter  of  a  baker  in 
Trastevere. 

The  portrait  of  the  young  girl  or  woman  in  the 
Barberini  palace  is  a  wonderful  painting.  I  call  it  so, 
because  it  bears  about  it  in  a  high  degree  the  char- 
acter of  mysterious  uiifathomableness.  We  like  to 
contemplate  it  again  and  again.  She  sits  turned 
to  us,  almost  naked,  but  still  not  unclothed ;  she  is 
visible  as  far  as  the  knee.  A  red  garment,  witli  dark, 
shadowy  folds,  is  laid  across  her  lap:  with  her  right 
hand  she  presses  softly  against  her  bosom  a  thin, 
transparent,  white  texture,  which  is  drawn  up  over 
her  waist ;  but  we  feel,  —  one  movement,  and  all  is 
thrown  aside.  This  right  hand  seems,  as  it  were, 
with  every  finger  to  touch  a  different  key.  It  lies 
below  her  bosom  ;  with  the  thumb  alone  she  presses 
the  light  web-like  material  closely  to  her ;  the  fore- 
finger, a  little  raised,  touches  the  left  breast,  and 
impresses  a  slight  dent  there ;  the  other  three  fingers 
spread  out,  lie  below,  and  seam  to  press  it  gently  up. 
The  left  hand,  on  the  contrary,  has  fallen  on  her  lap; 
not  lying  on  the  back,  open,  but  witli  the  palm  below, 


THE  PORTBAIT  IN  THE  BARBERINI  PALACE.         363 

as  if  it  had  been  in  the  act  of  spreading  the  dress 
over  the  knees,  and  had  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the 
movement.  The  fingers  lie  languidly  spread  out  on 
the  dark  purple,  the  wrist  upon  one  knee,  the  points 
of  the  fingers  on  the  other,  as  if  they  were  forming 
a  bridge  across. 

A  narrow  ribbon  encircles  the  arm  of  this  hand, 
not  far  from  the  shoulder :  it  is  green  with  a  gold 
edge,  and  RAPHAEL.  VRBINAS.  is  inscribed  on  it  in 
gold  letters.  The  ribbon  seems  a  little  too  small ; 
for  it  rather  presses  the  muscle  of  the  arm  upon 
which  it  is  placed,  so  that  it  appears  slightly  dis- 
tended, as  if  it  had  been  drawn  too  tight,  in  order 
that  it  might  not  slip  off. 

Did  Raphael  intend  by  this  to  intimate  possession, 
as  of  a  beautiful  animal,  round  which  he  placed  a 
ribbon,  that  he  might  see  with  his  eyes  that  it  was 
his  ?  For  a  higher  position  this  maiden  holds  not. 
Her  brow  seems  to  harbor  passions  alone,  and  no 
thought.  And  the  wanton  lips,  the  corners  of  which 
bury  themselves  in  the  cheeks;  the  large,  raven- 
black  eyes,  looking  aside,  and  at  the  same  time 
slightly  gazing  upwards ;  the  chiselled  nose  and  full 
nostrils, — a  divine,  innocent  sensuality  beams  forth 
from  it  all,  just  as  the  goddesses  and  nymphs  of  the 
Greeks  were  sensual,  and  passed  along  purely  with- 
out a  doubting  thought,  because  they  never  surmised 
a  contrast  to  the  simple,  glowing  feelings,  to  whose 
voice  they  listened  as  to  the  commands  of  destiny. 

The  face  is  slightly  browned,  as  are  also  the  arms 
and  hands, —  she  was  therefore  accustomed  to  use 
them  in  the  open  air;  the  eyebrows  are  dark  as 


364  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

night,  as  if  each  was  drawn  with  one  single  bold 
stroke.  Her  hair  is  brilliantly  black,  parted  over  the 
brow,  and  smoothly  drawn  over  the  temples  behind 
the  ear ;  the  head  is  encircled  with  a  gay  handker- 
chief like  a  turban,  the  knots  of  which  lie  on  one 
side  above  the  ear,  pressing  it  a  little  with  their 
weight. 

She  is  slightly  bent  forward.  She  sits  there  with 
her  delicate  shoulder  a  little  turned  to  the  left ;  she 
seems  looking  stealthily  at  her  lover  to  watch  him  as 
he  paints,  and  yet  not  to  stir  from  her  position  be- 
cause he  has  forbidden  it.  It  seems  to  him,  how- 
ever, to  be  a  source  of  the  most  intense  pleasure  to 
copy  her  accurately,  and  in  no  small  matter  to  repre- 
sent her  otherwise  than  as  he  saw  her  before  him. 
We  fancy  her  to  feel  the  jealousy,  the  vehemence, 
the  joy,  the  unalterable  good-humor,  and  the  pride, 
springing  from  the  happiness  of  being  loved  by  him. 
He,  however,  painted  it  all,  because  he  was  capable 
of  these  feelings  himself  in  their  greatest  depth.  If 
his  pictures  do  not  betray  this,  his  poems  do. 

Was  this  side  of  his  character  completely  lacking 
in  Michael  Angelo  ?  We  are  wont  to  pronounce  the 
name  of  Yittoria  Colonna,  whenever  a  woman  is 
named  in  connection  with  him.  But,  when  he 
became  acquainted  with  her,  he  was  almost  an  old 
man,  and  she  nearly  his  equal  in  years.  They  were 
united  by  the  same  opinions  in  a  season  of  difficulty. 
She,  however,  always  remained  the  princess,  and 
there  was  never  any  mention  of  love  between  them. 
Vittoria  lived  as  a  widow, — indeed,  partly  as  a  nun, 
— and  was  on  the  point  of  entering  a  convent. 


MICHAEL   ANGELO'S   PO^MS.  365 

Michael  Angelo's  poems  alone  furnish  an  answer. 
There  are  passionate  ones  among  them,  but  almost 
everywhere  the  date  of  their  origin  is  lacking ;  the 
few  which  can  be  decided  on  belong  to  his  later 
years.  Condivi,  however,  says  that  he  began  to 
write  poems  very  early. 

But,  in  the  verses  which  lie  wrote  as  an  old  man,' 
he  speaks  of  his  youth,  and  of  the  passions  which 
at  that  time  rent  his  heart.  "  That  was  the  worst 
part  of  my  youth,"  he  says,  "  that  I  fell  blindly  into 
love,  without  taking  warning."  — "  If  thou  thinkest 
to  vanquish  me,"  he  addresses  love  itself  in  another, 
"  bring  me  back  to  the  times  in  which  no  rein 
restrained  my  blind  passion ;  give  me  again  my 
undimmed,  cheerful  countenance,  from  which  nature 
has  now  taken  all  its  power.  And  give  me  back  the 
steps  which  my  anguish  made  me  lavish  uselessly ; 
and  restore  me  fire  in  my  breast,  and  tears,  if  thou 
desirest  that  I  should  again  burn  and  weep." 

"  There  were  seasons,"  begins  another,  "  when  I 
was  a  thousand  times  fatally  wounded,  yet  remained 
unconquered  and  unwearied ;  and  now,  when  my 
hair  is  grown  white,  thou  returnest  again !  How 
often  hast  thou  vanquished  my  will,  and  given  it 
back  its  freedom ;  spurring  me  like  a  horse  to  wild- 
ness;  letting  me  grow  pale,  and  bathe  my  breast  with 
tears:  and  now,  when  I  am  old,  thou  comest  again !  " 
Many  passages  such  as  these  might  be  mentioned. 
Michael  Angelo  always,  however,  speaks  of  his  tor- 
ments, his  consuming  love,  and  his  tears,  —  never 
of  the  fulfilment  of  his  wishes.  There  is  no  poem, 
from  which,  as  from  those  passionate  lines  of  Ra- 


366  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

phael,  the  sweet  sap  of  intoxicating  happinoss  gushes 
forth  as  from  ripe  fruit. 

There  is  one  of  Michael  Angelo's  poems  existing, 
in  which  he  describes  the  beauty  of  a  woman ;  *  but 
we  know  not  whether  he  is  not  perhaps  addressing 
an  image,  and  whether  the  last  lines  are  not  rather 
a  poetical  reflection :  — 

"  Around  that  fair  and  flower-encircled  brow, 
How  gladly  does  the  golden  garland  shine  ! 
The  proudest  bloom  is  that  which,  pressing  low, 
Leaves  the  first  kiss  upon  her  brow  divine. 
The  livelong  day  her  gladsome  robe  is  found 
Pressing  her  breast  with  folds  that  thence  expand ; 
Her  golden  hair,  released  from  every  band, 
Plays  unrestrained  her  cheek  and  neck  around. 
And,  happier  still,  the  silken  band,  that  prest 
With  such  sweet  force  and  gently  tempered  stress, 
Lays  its  soft  touch  on  her  imprisoned  breast. 
And  the  encircling  girdle  seems  as  though 
It  could  not  bid  its  willing  hold  let  go. 
Oh !  then  how  tenderly  my  arms  would  press  ! " 

Who  was  the  lady  ?  In  many  traits,  the  picture 
agrees  with  that  marked  1512,  the  portrait  ascribed 
to  Raphael  in  the  Tribune  at  Florence.  Yet  I  will 
by  no  means  draw  any  conclusions  from  this ;  for 
the  dress  represented  here  was  the  usual  one,  and  the 
golden  circlet  was  very  customary  with  Florentine 
ladies.  Domenico  Grillandajo's'  father,  who  was  a 
goldsmith,  is  said  to  have  designed  this  ornament, 
the  ghirlanda  aurea,  in  Florence ;  and  hence  it  ob- 
tained his  name.  I  only  mention  the  portrait,  to 
show  that  Michael  Angelo  has  represented  nothing 
extraordinary  in  this  sonnet. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXVIH. 


POEMS.  367 

We  seek  to  find,  in  another  direction,  a  reason 
why  his  passion  ever  returned  so  solitarily  back  to 
his  own  bosom.  He  says  in  the  poem,  the  words  of 
which  I  quoted  before,  "  Give  me  back  that  pure, 
undimmed  countenance  which,  nature  has  robbed  of 
every  beauty,"  "  onde  a  natura  ogni  virtude  e  tolta." 
I  translate  virtude  by  beauty ;  the  word  signifies 
excellence,  fitness,  art,  power ;  we  have  no  expres- 
sion of  the  same  signification.*  Does  this  refer  to 
the  blow  which  he  received  as  a  boy  in  Florence, 
and  which  disfigured  him  ?  Was  he  so  convinced 
of  his  ugliness,  that  he  ventured  not,  on  account  of 
it,  what  he  would  have  perhaps  otherwise  ventured  ? 
Did  he  sit  alone,  pondering  over  his  late,  and  forcing 
his  tears  secretly  back  to  their  source  ?  AVe  know 
not.  It  is  not  necessary  to  know  it.  But  it  is  not 
in  opposition  to  the  picture  we  form  of  his  character 
to  think  of  him  thus  alone  with  himself,  till  seclu- 
sion early  became  a  necessity  with  him,  and  he  held 
himself  aloof  from  men  whom  he  loved  with  all  his 
soul,  because  he  felt  himself  not  created  for  their 
happiness  and  cheerful  intercourse.  For  this  reason 
it  is  possible  that  he  only  turned  a  serious  aspect 
upon  Raphael,  and  never  thought  of  giving  him  a 
token  that  he  understood  him,  and  felt  himself 
understood  by  him. 

2. 

Condivi  asserts,  that  Raphael  endeavored,  through 
Bramante,  to  obtain  for  himself  the  continuation  of 
the  Sistine  paintings.  That  Bramante  strove  to  get 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXFX. 


368  LIFE    OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

this  order  for  him  I  doubt  not ;  whether  it  was, 
however,  done  at  Raphael's  instigation,  Condivi  coiild 
not  know,  and  scarcely  Michael  Angelo  himself.  In 
such  inquiries,  we  must  keep  before  us,  that  they 
concern  matters  which  were  recorded  almost  fifty 
years  after  they  had  occurred,  and  that  this  fras 
done  by  a  young  man  blindly  captivated  by  Michael 
Angelo,  who,  in  this  instance,  innocently  perhaps, 
heard  more  than  was  told  him.  For  the  compara- 
tive merits  of  the  two  men,  Raphael  and  Michael 
Angelo,  had  become  in  time  a  question  in  Italy,  — 
as,  in  the  present  day,  we  discuss  whether  Goethe  or 
Svhiller  is  the  greater ;  and,  however  conscientious 
we  may  consider  Condivi,  on  this  point  he  must  have 
been  partial. 

Let  us,  therefore,  take  the  facts  as  they  appear 
from  the  characters  of  the  men.  There  was  cer- 
tainly no  soul  in  Rome  who  felt  so  deeply  as  Ra- 
phael what  had  been  done  here.  To  suppose  that 
Raphael  had  concealed  the  knowledge,  that .  some- 
thing had  been  produced  in  the  Sistine  Chapel, 
superior  to  any  thing  which  he  or  any  one  else 
could  have  produced,  and,  at  the  same  time,  that 
he  did  not  feel  in  himself  the  desire  to  possess 
whatever  was  attainable  of  this  power,  would  be  to 
mistake  the  greatness  of  Raphael.  It  would  have 
been  a  weakness  to  turn  aside ;  it  was  a  token  of 
natural  boldness  to  yield  himself  to  the  influence. 
This  was  the  opinion  even  in  Rome  at  the  time.  Ju- 
lius himself  declared,  that  Raphael,  after  he  had  seen 
Michael  Angelo's  works,  had  adopted  another  style. 

We  might  seek  this  change  of  style  in  Raphael 


RAPHAEL.  369 

in  outward  things,  —  in  the  more  vigorous  study  of 
the  bare  form,  and  of  fore-shortenings  ;  for  in  neither 
of  these  lay  Raphael's  strength.  Perugino's  school 
knew  little  of  the  difficulties  which  Michael  Angelo 
introduced  into  art ;  easy  drapery  covered  the  figures 
in  ordinary  folds,  and  facilitated  the  work.  For 
this  reason,  Michael  Angelo's  bathing  soldiers  had 
been  so  great  an  innovation,  and  Perugino's  opposi 
sition  had  been  so  obstinate.  The  old  school  saw 
that  its  life  was  ebbing. 

In  Raphael's  Entombment  of  Christ,  painted  at 
Florence  in  the  year  1507,  we  perceive  the  first 
traces  of  Michael  Angelo's  influence.  The  sketches 
belong  to  an  earlier  period,  and,  in  the  unclothed 
figures,  exhibit  the  old  conception  of  Perugino,  ap- 
pearing here  almost  wooden  in  contrast ;  but,  in  the 
execution,  the  management  of  them  is  marvellous. 
Michael  Angelo's  cartoon  stood  with  its  surprising 
grandeur  and  freedom  before  Raphael's  eyes,  and 
struck  him  with  admiration.  Then,  however,  he 
sank  back  again  into  his  old  manner,  perhaps  be- 
cause commissions  were  wanting,  to  oblige  him  to 
extricate  himself  completely  ;  and  the  Disputa  in  the 
Vatican,  especially  the  first  sketches  for  it,  exhibit 
him  as  a  pupil  of  Fra  Bartolomeo,  whose  classical 
arrangement  of  drapery,  and  easy  grouping,  are  the 
greatest  merit  which  distinguishes  him  from  others. 
Then  Michael  Angelo  uncovered  the  dome  of  the 
Sistine  Chapel,  and  Raphael  made  another  step 
forward  in  the  School  of  Athens.  Sheets  of  studies 
show  how  he  labored  at  anatomy  and  fore-shortening 
for  this  work. 

16*  X 


370  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Yet  it  is  not  this  which  makes  the  School  of 
Athens  appear  to  me  as  a  monument  of  Michael 
Angelo's  influence.  Raphael's  progress  lay  in  no 
outward  difference,  seen  in  regard  to  his  earlier 
works ;  but  another  quality,  which  his  compositions 
from  henceforth  possess,  is  the  true  and  valuable 
gain  which  his  meeting  with  Michael  Angelo  yielded. 
His  mind  now  left  the  more  trifling  conceptions  of 
his  former  teachers  and  models,  and  he  began  to 
conceive  the  figures  which  he  painted  as  grandly  as 
he  executed  them. 

What  I  mean  by  this  has  been  already  expressed 
with  regard  to  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  whose  Last  Sup- 
per in  Milan  is  the  first  Italian  picture  truly  great 
in  its  conception.  Michael  Angelo  came  after  him. 
In  works  of  art,  we  look  at  the  scale  in  which  they 
are  devised,  independently  from  that  in  which  they 
are  executed.  Small  buildings  in  good  proportion 
may  mentally  produce  the  impression  of  almost  co- 
lossal size ;  the  temples  of  Psestum  show  this  most 
plainly.  They  rise  in  our  memory  ;  and  we  consider 
them  greater  than  their  size  would  make  them 
appear.  Other  works,  on  the  contrary,  involuntarily 
dimmish  in  size,  because  small  in  conception  ;  they 
have  only  been  made  outwardly  more  extensive  by 
the  manifold  doubling  of  their  proportions,  without 
being  greater  in  themselves. 

The  Florentine  school  of  painting  inclined  to  the 
minute.  Perugino  raised  himself  above  his  pre- 
decessors ;  but  even  his  greatest  works  make  no 
grand  impression.  Fra  Bartolomeo,  who  was  re- 
proached for  having  too  minute  a  style,  attempted 


RAPHAEL.  371 

to  alter  it,  and  painted  a  colossal  St.  Mark,  now  in 
the  Pitti  palace  at  Florence ;  yet  we  see  at  once, 
in  the  figure,  that  it  is  nothing  but  the  enlargement 
of  a  smaller  size.  His  conceptions,  and  Perugino's, 
had  hitherto  influenced  those  of  Raphael:  in  the 
School  of  Athens,  however,  the  grander  ideas  of 
Michael  Angelo  appear,  and  these  from  that  time 
prevailed.  Raphael  never  rose  to  colossal  figures ; 
he  did  not  outwardly  imitate  Michael  Angelo ;  but 
it  is  as  if,  touched  by  the  freedom  of  this  man,  he 
at  length  abandoned  himself  to  the  freedom  from 
which  the  example  of  others  had  hitherto  restrained 
him.  Only  once  was  he  carried  away  into  outward 
imitation.  He  painted  in  San  Agostino  the  colossal 
prophet  Isaiah,  now  destroyed  and  painted  over,  but 
little  attractive  even  in  outline.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  the  sibyls  of  the  Church  Maria  della  Pace, 
and  in  the  ceiling  of  the  Vatican  apartment,  we  see 
that  full  power  and  beauty  which  arose  from  the 
union  of  the  mind  of  Michael  Angelo  with  the  im- 
agination of  Raphael. 

Raphael's  imagination  needed  the  most  lively  con- 
nection with  those  who  formed  his  society.  His  most 
natural  compositions  arose  from  the  men  and  women 
whom  he  had  before  him.  He  represented  them  in 
the  utmost  radiance  of  their  being;  but  he  never 
passed  into  that  other  world,  in  which  Michael 
Angelo  was  at  home.  He  liked  best  to  paint  the 
costume  in  which  he  saw  the  Roman  men  and  women 
moving  in  the  palaces,  and  in  the  streets  of  the  city. 
"  I  must  have  seen  many  beautiful  women,  and  from 
this  the  image  of  one  alone  is  formed  within  me,"  he 


372  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

writes  to  the  Count  Castiglione ;  and  he  calls  this 
image  which  had  thus  arisen  una  certa  idea,  correct 
in  Plato's  sense,  who  understands  by  idea  that  image 
dwelling  within  us  of  different  things,  which,  repre- 
senting them  in  their  perfection,  accompanies  us  like 
an  invisible  radiant  spirit.  Michael  Angelo,  when- 
ever he  falls  back  upon  nature,  copies  her  accurately 
without  elevating  her,  and  goes  to  work  in  that  un- 
varnished way  with  which  Donatello  upbraided  him. 
When,  however,  he  is  absorbed  in  the  creative  power 
of  his  own  mind,  his  images  arise  from  the  first  just 
as  cloudy  forms  suddenly  conglomerate  from  invisible 
sapors.  In  Raphael's  figures  there  is  always  a 
certain  earthly  core,  the  covering  of  which  he  glori- 
fied. Goethe  wrote  just  as  Raphael  painted  ;  while 
Schiller,  working  more  in  the  spirit  of  Michael 
Angelo,  shows  himself  not  dissimilar  even  in  this, 
that,  whenever  he  did  draw  faithfully  after  nature, 
he  was  by  far  more  substantial  than  Goethe.  Michael 
Angelo  would  not  have  been  able  to  produce  a  paint- 
ing like  the  Mass  of  Bolsena,  in  the  second  apartment 
of  the  Vatican  palace.  We  see  the  pope,  the  cardi- 
nals, the  Swiss,  and  the  people  of  Rome,  bodily  before 
us,  as  if  we  could  call  the  figures  by  their  names,  so 
distinctly  human  does  the  life  appear  which  fills 
each  individual :  Shakespeare  does  not  bring  out  his 
characters  more  naturally.  And,  even  where  Raphael 
produces  naked  gods  and  goddesses,  they  are  only 
unclothed  Roman  men  and  women,  —  none  the  less 
worthy,  on  that  account,  to  dwell  in  the  golden 
palaces  of  Olympus. 

Both  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  appeared  at  a 


BRAMANTE   AND   MICHAEL   ANGELO.  373 

phase  of  life,  which  called  forth  unceasingly  the 
deepest  feelings  of  men,  and  urged  them  almost  with 
violence  to  the  surface.  The  world  was  not  to  be 
driven  into  the  false  forms  of  later  centuries;  men 
and  women  appeared  as  they  were,  and  stretched  out 
their  arms  openly  for  what  they  desired;  still  free 
from  the  oppressive  feeling  which  has  burdened 
men  from  then  until  our  own  times,  from  that  solici- 
tude for  lost  freedom ;  they  regarded  the  past  and 
the  future  indifferent  to  its  gloom,  and  the  present 
beamed  forth  in  sunlight. 

Bramante  cared  little  whether  censuring  posterity 
would  express  dissatisfaction  or  no :  he  wished  to  get 
i*id  of  Michael  Angelo ;  he  and  Raphael  were  to  be 
the  two  first  in  Rome.  As  far  as  the  history  of  art 
is  known,  we  find  similar  intrigues:  all  ages  are 
alike  in  this ;  and  the  events  of  modern  times  will 
one  day  not  appear  otherwise.  Michael  Angelo, 
however,  was  not  the  man  to  retire  voluntarily.  A 
violent  scene  took  place  in  the  presence  of  the  pope. 
Michael  Angelo  spoke  plainly,  and  cast  in  Bramante's 
teeth  all  that  he  had  had  to  endure  from  him ;  and 
then,  advancing  from  complaints  at  his  intrigues 
to  more  vehement  reproaches,  he  called  upon  him  to 
justify  himself  as  to  his  reason  for  having,  at  the 
demolishing  of  the  old  Basilica  of  St.  Peter,  broken 
down  the  magnificent  old  columns  which  supported 
the  ceiling  of  the  church,  without  any  concern  for 
their  value,  letting  them  now  lie  in  fragments,  and 
ruined.  A  million  of  bricks,  he  said,  one  placed 
on  another,  is  no  art;  but  to  execute  one  single 
column  such  as  those  is  a  great  art.  And,  con- 


374  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

tinuing  in  this  tone,  he  disburdened  his  heart  with- 
out restraint. 

The  contempt  with  which  Bramante  treated  the 
works  of  antiquity  is  notorious.  He  had  destroyed 
ancient  buildings  to  procure  stone  for  the  palace  of 
the  Cardinal  di  San  Giorgio.  In  St.  Peter's  he  jum- 
bled all  together,  —  paintings,  mosaics,  monuments ; 
he  even  spared  not  tombs  of  the  popes :  so  that 
Michael  Angelo's  reproaches  touched  only  on  the 
most  important  of  all. 

The  pope  protected  Raphael,  who,  no  less  than 
Michael  Angelo,  had  become  the  admiration  of  Rome ; 
but  he  perceived  the  difference  of  the  nature  of  the 
two  artists,  and  knew  the  place  to  assign  to  each. 
Michael  Angelo  might  speak  as  passion  prompted 
him.  Julius  permitted  this;  he  knew  his  nature, 
and  was  too  jealous  of  possessing  him,  not  to  retain 
him  at  Rome  under  any  circumstances.  He  quietly 
allowed  him  to  bluster,  and  knew  that  he  would  be- 
come quiet.  He  was  himself  one  of  those  who  must 
give  vent  at  times  to  his  passions.  We  have  but  to 
consider  the  portrait  which  Raphael  made  of  him. 
This  hoary  lion,  grown  old  amid  storms,  hoped  still 
to  accomplish  his  principal  deeds ;  and  not  carried 
away  by  the  vehemence  of  a  mind,  which,  outwardly 
considered,  was  subordinate  to  him,  he  yet  yielded, 
just  as  Michael  Angelo  himself  would  have  done,  if 
fate  had  made  him  pope,  and  Julius  sculptor  to  his 
Holiness.  He  retained  the  chapel,  and  began  the 
paintings,  which  are  the  most  magnificent  of  all  his 
works. 

But  this  time,  again,  difficulties  arose.     First  the 


THE   CEILING   OP   THE   SISTINE   CHAPEL.  375 

lacking  re-touches  and  the  gold.  The  pope  soon 
perceived  that  Michael  Angelo  was  right,  when  he 
had  delayed  to  break  down  the  scaffolding,  before  the 
last  touch  had  been  put  to  the  painting.  The  scaf- 
folding had  now  to  be  again  raised  to  make  up  for 
what  he  had  neglected  to  do.  But  this  was  now  an 
impossibility.  The  scaffolding,  as  would  suggest 
itself  naturally,  had  only  been  drawn  across  half  of 
the  ceiling,  as  otherwise  the  chapel  below  would  have 
been  darkened.  If  now,  for  the  sake  of  the  re-touch- 
ing and  the  gold,  the  dismantled  scaffolding  were  to 
be  newly  erected,  the  work  would  have  to  be  tem- 
porarily deferred  on  the  other  half  of  the  ceiling, 
which  Michael  Angelo  wished  to  begin  at  once.  He 
now  endeavored  to  dissuade  the  pope  from  the 
necessity  of  the  re-touching  and  the  gold.  "  It  is 
unnecessary,"  he  said.  "  But  it  looks  so  poor,"  re- 
plied Julius.  "  They  are  only  poor  people,"  returned 
Michael  Angelo  jestingly,  "  whom  I  have  painted 
there  ;  they  did  not  wear  gold  oh  their  garments,"— 
alluding  to  the  simple  old  times  in  contrast  to 
the  present.  The  pope  was  quieted  by  this.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  now  urged  forward,  with  his  old 
impatience,  and  would  not  allow  Michael  Angelo  the 
slightest  leave  of  absence,  although  his  presence  in 
Florence  was  at  times  quite  necessary.  Thus  it  was 
in  the  year  1508,  when  the  bronze  David,  executed 
for  France,  awaited  its  final  completion,  and  those 
who  were  to  receive  it  desired  its  transmission. 
The  Signiory  excused  themselves  by  saying  that  the 
pope  would  not  allow  Michael  Angelo  to  leave  ;  but, 
as  soon  as  they  could  get  hold  of  him,  the  work 


876  LIFE  -OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

would  be  delivered  up.  At  length  they  consigned  it 
to  a  young  sculptor,  Benedetto  di  Rovezzano,  who 
chiselled  the  cast.  In  December,  1508,  the  David 
was  brought  to  Livorno,  and  conveyed  to  France  by 
sea.  We  know  not  what  has  become  of  it. 

The  refusal  for  leave  of  absence,  on  account  of  the 
David,  occurred  in  the  June  of  1508  ;  in  the  Decem- 
ber of  the  same  year,  Soderini  writes  to  the  Marchese 
Malaspina  respecting  the  block  of  marble  from  which 
Michael  Angelo  was  to  execute  the  colossus.  Ho 
makes  excuses.  The  marble  was  ordered,  and  Mal- 
aspina wished  to  deliver  it  up,  probably  for  the  sake 
of  the  payment ;  but  for  this  a  previous  preparation  of 
the  block  on  the  spot  was  necessary.  "  Now,"  writes 
Soderini,  "  the  pope  will  allow  Michael  Angelo  no 
leave  of  absence ;  and  no  man  in  Italy,  except  him, 
could  direct  the  preliminary  preparations  of  the 
stone :  he  must  himself  go  and  give  the  necessary 
directions ;  others  would  not  understand  what  he 
intended,  and  would*  spoil  the  marble.  So  long  as 
Michael  Angelo  is  away,  the  matter  must  therefore 
unhappily  rest.  The  Marchese  might,  however,  rest 
assured  that  Michael  Angelo  would  execute  a  statue 
which  they  would  not  be  ashamed  to  place  beside 
the  works  of  the  old  masters,  and  that  the  marble 
should  be  well  paid  for." 

At  midsummer,  1510,  Michael  Angelo  demanded 
leave  at  any  rate.  He  wished  to  keep  the  festival 
at  home,  —  the  greatest  which  is  celebrated  by  the 
Florentines  in  the  entire  year.  He  had  now  been 
already  so  long  separated  from  his  belongings.  He 
demanded  leave  and  money.  The  pope  refused 


THE   CEILING   OF   THE   SISTINE   CHAPEL.  377 

both.  When  would  he  be  ready  in  that  case  with 
his  chapel  ?  "  Quando  potrd,"  —  when  I  can,  —  re- 
plied he.  "  Quando  potrd,  quando  potrd  ! "  repeated 
Juhus  angrily,  and  struck  him  with  his  stick.  Mi- 
chael Angelo  went  home,  and  prepared  to  set  off 
without  further  delay.  The  young  Accursio,  the 
pope's  favorite  page,  now  rushed  in,  bringing  fifty 
scudi ;  he  excused  the  holy  father  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  pacified  Michael  Angelo,  who  undertook 
the  journey,  but  appears  shortly  after  again  at  his 
work.  We  owe  the  narrative  of  this  incident  to 
Condivi :  the  letters,  although  many  from  his  father 
and  brother  lie  before  us,  can  only  be  referred  with 
little  certainty  to  the  first  eight  months  of  the  year 
1510  ;  and  they  contain  nothing  beyond  its  outward 
events.  This  only  may  be  perceived,  —  that  he  was 
painting  incessantly  the  whole  time,  and  sent  his 
savings  home  with  the  same  steadiness,  and  always 
with  the  same  accurate  directions  as  to  how  the 
money  was  to  be  disposed  of.  The  pope  constantly 
urged  forwards,  and  would  not  suffer  the  least  in- 
terruption. In  this  way  alone  can  we  explain  the 
fact,  that  Michael  Angelo  was  only  twenty  months 
accomplishing  the  entire  work, —  ten  for  one,  ten  for 
the  other  half  of  the  chapel.  It  needed  the  meeting 
of  these  two  men  —  in  the  one,  such  perseverance 
in  requiring ;  and,  in  the  other,  such  power  in  fulfil- 
ling—  to  produce  this  monument  of  human  art. 
And  in  this  also  they  were  similar,  —  that,  as  Mi- 
chael Angelo  continued  his  work  in  spite  of  unceas- 
ing by-thoughts  of  Florence  and  his  family,  Julius 
knew  how  to  retain  in  its  purity  his  ardent  interest 


378  LIFE   OF    MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

for  buildings  and  paintings,  amid  the  agitating  cares 
which  arose  continually  during  his  stormy  rule. 

Julius  was  the  last  pope  in  the  old  sense  of  the 
Guelfic  warlike  papacy.  After  his  days,  all  that 
is  heroic  disappears  from  European  history.  While 
rulers,  from  this  time,  went  to  war  themselves,  and 
led  battles,  their  personal  caprices  played  a  part 
no  longer :  noble,  heavy-armed  horsemen,  sword  in 
hand,  yielded  to  the  decisive  power  of  the  artillery  ; 
men  no  longer  resigned  themselves  entirely  to 
events ;  and  the  fear  of  being  conquered  in  war  was 
no  longer  the  greatest  that  beset  the  head  of  a  State. 
There  was  a  fear  in  those  succeeding  ages,  which 
was  greater  than  any  other,  —  that  of  the  power  of 
mind  among  their  own  subjects.  This  feeling  made 
princes,  even  when  at  war  with  each  other,  quiet 
allies.  Kings  at  that  time  troubled  themselves  not 
respecting  the  general  oppression  of  mind,  and  rela- 
tions were  purer  and  more  natural. 

Julius  knew  that  his  papal  crown  was  aimed  at ; 
yet  he  cared  little  for  this.  Danger  had  been  his 
favorite  element.  His  great  age  freed  him  from 
cares  for  a  long  future.  It  was  unnecessary  to 
stake  his  own  existence  for  uncertain  times.  People 
of  moderate  parts  appear  as  striking  personages  ; 
power,  once  it  is  coupled  Avith  cunning  and  cruelty, 
inspires  respect ;  covetousness  is  suspected  by  no 
one :  but  clemency  and  placability  are  ridiculed. 
Macchiavelli  —  who  in  those  days  gathered  together 
the  experiences  of  his  practical  activity,  the  result 
of  which  is  the  image  of  a  prince,  as  he  ought  to  be, 
if  he  would  hold  his  ground  in  a  State  like  Flor- 


JULIUS  IT.  379 

ence — Macchiavelli  specifies,  as  the  chief  trait  of 
the  princely  character,  the  capability  of  anticipating 
things,  and  of  forestalling  them  by  regardless  actions. 
This  policy  of  attack  was  adhered  to  in  the  smallest 
circumstances.  Swords  were  loose  in  their  scab- 
bards :  no  one  could  hope  to  gain  his  rights  by  sub- 
servience. 

In  the  year  1508,  the  pope  was  admitted  to  the 
league  of  Cambrai,  the  intent  of  which  was  the  union 
of  Maximilian  and  the  King  of  France  for  the  anni- 
hilation of  the  Venetian  power.  In  the  following 
year  he  stood  in  league  with  Venice  and  Spain, 
opposed  to  France  and  Maximilian.  The  Duke  of 
Urbino  advanced  with  the  papal  troops  against  Fer- 
rara,  which  stood  under  the  protection  of  France. 
The  Venetian  and  Spanish  fleets  were  to  attack 
Genoa,  and  to  spread  the  spirit  of  revolt  there ;  and, 
lastly,  they  hoped  that  the  Swiss,  discarded  by  Louis, 
and  amounting  to  six  thousand  men  strong,  would 
advance  into  Lombardy.  All  of  this  failed.  Noth- 
ing was  done  against  Ferrara ;  the  Swiss,  gained 
over  by  Louis  and  Maximilian,  turned  round ;  the 
attack  on  Genoa  failed.  Nevertheless,  Julius,  who 
soon  saw  himself  as  good  as  forsaken  by  Spain,  urged 
for  the  continuation  of  the  war.  In  September, 
1510,  he  was  himself  again  in  Bologna,  and  attacked 
Ferrara,  supported  by  the  Venetian  land  and  sea 
forces ;  the  French  and  their  allies  were  excommu- 
nicated. 

The  French  ecclesiastics  opposed  this ;  a  division 
arose  among  the  cardinals.  A  number  of  them 
gained  permission  from  the  pope  to  leave  for  a  fixod 


380  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

time ;  and  they  did  not  return  to  him.  The  Cardinal 
of  Pavia,  Julius's  treasurer  and  most  intimate  confi- 
dant,— who  had  once  refused  a  high  sum  with  which 
Ca3sar  Borgia  wanted  to  bribe  him  to  administer 
poison,  —  now  fell  under  suspicion  of  treachery. 
The  Duke  of  Urbino  reproached  him  with  his  in 
trigues  in  the  presence  of  the  French,  and  carried 
him  by  force  away  from  the  army  to  Bologna,  where, 
however,  he  knew  how  to  justify  himself  with  the 
pope. 

The  papal  troops  were  at  Modena,  northwest  from 
Bologna,  on  the  highway  towards  Parma;  Chau- 
mont,  the  Viceroy  of  Lombardy,  the  friend  of  Leon- 
ardo da  Vinci,  advanced  to  meet  them  from  Parma. 
The  Duke  of  Urbino  would  not  come  to  the  attack 
without  waiting  for  the  Spanish  and  Venetian  mer- 
cenaries ;  it  was  Chaumont's  interest  to  bring  about 
an  encounter  before  this.  He  came  nearer  and 
nearer ;  the  papal  troops  stirred  not ;  when  urged  by 
the  Bentivogli,  who  were  with  him,  he  resolved  to 
disappoint  the  Duke  of  Urbino,  and,  by  going  round 
by  Modena,  to  march  upon  Bologna,  where  the  pope 
was  with  his  prelates,  and  in  the  castle  of  which 
only  a  small  garrison  lay ;  while  the  friends  of  the 
Bentivogli  in  the  city  awaited,  well  armed,  the  arri- 
val of  their  old  masters. 

The  French  accordingly  left  the  highway,  took  the 
smaller  places  with  papal  garrisons,  and  appeared 
with  their  army  suddenly  before  Bolonga,  where  the 
pope,  sick,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  frightened  cardi- 
nals, was  the  only  man  who  retained  his  energy.  He 
hoped  hourly  for  the  arrival  of  the  Venetians  ;  what- 


JULIUS   II.   IN   BOLOGNA.  381 

ever  troops  were  to  be  raised  iii  the  surrounding 
country  lie  drew  to  liis  side,  and  summoned  the 
assembled  authorities  of  the  city  to  defend  their 
walls  with  him  against  the  approaching  tyrants. 

But  the  Bolognese  people  would  not  take  up  arms. ' 
The  envoys  of  the  emperor,  of  the  King  of  Spain, 
Venice,  and  England,  counselled  him  to  enter  into 
an  agreement  with  the  French  ;  the  cardinals  en- 
treated him ;  at  length  he  agreed  to  open  negotia- 
tions with  Chaurnont.  He  consigned  the  papal 
crown  to  his  datario,  Lorenzo  Pucci,  who  was  over- 
loaded with  the  jewels  he  was  conveying  for  safety 
to  Florence,  to  be  kept  there  in  a  monastery :  he 
sent  to  Chaumont ;  but  he  could  not  resolve  to 
accept  his  conditions.  Just  at  the  last  moment,  the 
Venetians  approached ;  the  people  of  Bologna  arose 
in  his  favor ;  the  Spanish  auxiliaries  arrived ;  courage 
and  power  returned  to  Julius's  heart ;  and  the  most 
arrogant  answer  was  returned  to  Chaurnont's  pro- 
posals. Supplies  began  to  fail  the  latter ;  and,  under 
pretext  of  allowing  the  pope  to  decide  more  freely 
upon  the  king's  propositions,  he  withdrew  with  his 
army  from  Bologna. 

What  Louis  desired  from  the  pope  was  an  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  offences,  and  a  restoration  of  all  that 
he  had  taken.  Julius,  however,  never  contemplated 
this.  He  loudly  accused  the  King  of  France  of  a 
breach  of  his  word  and  of  treachery,  and  advanced 
to  carry  the  war  farther.  The  papal  troops  marched 
on.  The  pope  listened  with  delight,  from  the  win- 
dow of  his  room  at  Bologna,  to  the  distant  thunder 
of  the  cannon  with  which  his  people  fired  upon  Sas- 


382  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

suolo,  and  drove  out  the  French.  Ferrara  was  now 
to  be  conquered;  but  it  was  left,  that  Mirandula 
might  be  taken  first.  This  was  in  December,  1510. 
And,  while  thus  taking  arms  against  the  Duke  of 
Ferrara  in  his  own  land,  other  means  were  employed 
on  other  sides.  Florence  had  furnished  the  French 
with  troops  at  the  instigation  of  the  Soderiui,  both 
the  gonfalonier  and  the  cardinal,  who  were,  at  bot- 
torn,  in  favor  of  France.  The  Cardinal  dei  Medici 
was  contriving  from  afar  a  conspiracy  within  the  city : 
they  intended  to  poison  the  gonfalonier.  The  pope 
knew  of  it ;  but  the  plot  failed. 

Mirandula  made  resistance.  In  January,  1511, 
the  pope  went  himself  to  the  camp.  He  lived  in 
the  hut  of  a  peasant,  which  lay  within  reach  of  the 
enemy's  balls.  He  was  the  whole  day  on  horse- 
back ;  in  the  midst  of  the  snow-storms  he  appeared, 
now  here  and  now  there,  and,  standing  behind  the 
cannons,  incited  the  people  to  energy.  Snow  and 
cold  grew  more  and  more  mighty ;  the  soldiers 
could  not  endure  them ;  but  the  indestructible  old 
man  animated  them  on,  and  promised  them  the  city 
for  plunder.  A  cannon-ball  struck  the  little  church 
in  which  he  had  quartered  himself  close  by  his 
batteries,  and  killed  two  of  his  mon  not  far  from 
him.  He  moved  now  to  another  dwelling,  but 
returned  on  the  day  following ;  while  those  in  the 
fortress  who  recognized  him,  directed  a  great  cannon 
to  the  spot,  and  again  compelled  him  to  choose 
another  place.  But  he  surrendered  not.  The 
more  hinderances  increased,  the  firmer  grew  his  will, 
and  the  more  unshaken  his  confidence. 


LETTERS   TO   HIS   FATHER.  383 

3. 

The  war  meanwhile  had  not  been  without  its  in 
fluence  on  Michael  Angelo's  painting  in  the  chapel. 
In  September,  1510,  the  pope  had  left  Rome.  The 
payments  at  once  ceased. 

"  DEAR  FATHEK,"  writes  Michael  Angelo, — "I  received 
your  letter  this  morning,  the  5th  September,  and  read  it 
with  great  sadness.  You  tell  me  Buonarroto  is  sick ;  I 
beg  you  to  write  at  once  to  say  how  he  is.  If  he  has  not 
improved,  I  shall  come  next  week  to  Florence.  It  is  true 
the  journey  might  prove  a  great  disadvantage  to  me ;  for 
I  have  still  to  receive  by  contract  five  hundred  ducats,  and 
the  pope  owes  me  just  as  much  for  the  second  half  of  the 
work ;  but  he  has  now  gone  away,  without  leaving  behind 
any  directions,  so  that  I  am  without  money,  and  do  not 
know  what  I  shall  do.  If  I  go  away,  he  might  resent  it, 
and  I  might  lose  what  is  mine,  or  be  otherwise  vexed.  I 
have  written  to  the  pope,  and  await  an  answer.  But,  if 
Buonarroto  is  still  in  danger,  write,  and  I  will  give  up 
every  thing.  Provide  for  every  thing;  and,  if  money  is 
wanting,  go  to  the  hospital  inspector  of  Santa  Maria 
Nuova,  show  him  this  letter,  if  he  will  not  believe  you 
without  it,  and  let  him  pay  you  a  hundred  and  fifty  ducats, 
—  as  much  as  you  require ;  spare  no  expense.  And  let 
us  hope  the  best ;  God  has  not  created  us  to  leave  us  in 
distress.  Answer  by  return  of  post,  and  write  plainly 
whether  I  am  to  come  or  no." 

Two  days  after,  another  letter  follows  to  his  father, 
almost  word  for  word  the  same,  and  only  contain- 
ing the  more  accurate  statement,  that  the  five  hun- 
dred ducats  for  the  paintings,  as  well  as  for  the 


384  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

scaffolding,  are  owed  him  by  the  pope.  Michael 
Angelo  seems  afraid  that  the  first  letter  was  lost. 

On  the  10th  October,  he  informs  Buonarroto, 
whose  illness  therefore  had  no  evil  result,  that  he 
had  received  the  five  hundred  ducats  through  the 
pope's  datario.  He  at  once  sent  the  greatest  part 
of  the  money  home.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this  favorable 
turn,  how  little  Michael  Angelo's  was  a  bed  of  roses 
at  this  time  may  be  seen  by  the  conclusion  of  the 
letter  that  followed.  "  If  you  see  Michelagniolo 
Tanagli,  tell  him  from  me,  that  I  have  had  so  much 
trouble  for  the. last  two  months,  that  it  has  been 
impossible  for  me  to  write  to  him.  I  will,  however, 
make  every  effort  to  procure  him  a  cornelian  or  a 
good  medal ;  and  thank  him  for  me  for  the  cheese. 
I  will  write  by  the  next  post.  The  26th  October, 
1510." 

The  post-day  was  always  Saturday.  The  letters 
were  sealed  with  a  wafer ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  a 
piece  of  twine  was  bound  round  them,  and  the  ends 
were  impressed  in  the  seal.* 

This  is  the  last  letter  belonging  to  the  year  1510. 
In  January,  1511,  Michael  Angelo  appears  to  have 
himself  gone  to  the  pope.  The  journey  is  not  else- 
where mentioned ;  but,  from  the  letters,  it  undoubt- 
edly took  place.  Bramante  was  with  the  pope  at 
that  time  as  engineer ;  and,  perhaps  for  this  very 
reason,  Michael  Angelo  believed  himself  obliged  to 
go  personally  to  effect  the  payment  of  the  money. 
As  the  siege  of  Mirandula  lasted  till  the  20th 
January,  and  Michael  Angelo  had  returned  again 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXX. 


JOURNEY  TO   THE   CAMP   AT   MIRANDULA.          385 

to  Rome  by  the  10th,  he  can  only  have  seen  the 
pope  at  the  camp  at  Mirandula.  It  is  strange,  that, 
as  regards  Condivi,  this  journey  had  entirely  van- 
ished from  his  memory. 

"  Last  Tuesday,"  he  writes  on  the  llth  January, 
"  I  arrived  again  safely,  and  the  money  has  been 
paid  me."  Enclosed  he  sends  a  remittance  of  more 
than  two  hundred  and  twenty-eight  ducats.  Buon 
arroto  was  to  tell  Araldo,  that  he  was  to  remember 
him  to  the  gonfalonier,  to  thank  him,  and  to  say 
that  he  would  write  next  Saturday.  He  concludes, 
"  Keep  the  chest  under  lock  and  key,  and  my 
clothes,  that  they  may  not  be  stolen  'from  me  as  from 
Gismondo."  Michael  Angelo  had,  it  seems,  gone  by 
Florence,  and  had  negotiated  with  Soderiiii.  The 
date  1510,  which  the  letter  bears,  allows  a  doubt  to 
arise  whether  the  letter  is  to  be  placed  a  year  earlier ; 
but  the  circumstance,  that  the  same  date  has  been 
placed  outside  that  acknowledging  Buonarroto's  let- 
ter, shows  that  Michael  Angelo  adhered  this  time  to 
the  Florentine  reckoning,  and  that  consequently  the 
Roman  1511  is  intended. 

On  the  20th  January,  therefore,  Mirandula  capit- 
ulated. The  papal  troops  were  bribed  to  give  up 
the  plunder  for  sixty  pounds  of  gold.  Now  came 
Ferrara's  turn.  The  pope,  however,  was  obliged  to 
go  back  to  Bologna,  because  he  was  overcome  by 
fatigue. 

A  letter  of  Michael  Angelo's,  of  the  23d  February, 
leaves  it  uncertain  whether  he  now  went  in  quest  of 
the  pope  a  second  time.  "  I  think,"  he  writes  to 
Buon  arroto,  "  that,  within  a  short  time,  I  shall  be 

VOL.    I.  IT  T 


386  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

again  at  Bologna;  for  the  pope's  datario,  with  whom 
I  came  from  thence,  promised  me,  when  he  went 
back  again,  that  he  would  take  care  that  I  should  be 
able  to  go  on  with  my  work.  He  has  now  been 
gone  a  month  already,  and  I  hear  not  a  word  from 
him.  I  will  wait  just  this  week ;  and  then,  if  noth- 
ing hinders,  I  will  set  out  for  Bologna,  and  see  you 
on  my  way.  Tell  my  father  so."  *  Whether  ho 
went  or  no,  we  know  not.  If  it  were  the  case, 
he  would  probably  have  called  it  to  mind ;  for  the 
events  which  now  occurred  in  Bologna,  and  which  he 
must  have  experienced  there,  were  too  stormy  whol- 
ly to  escape  his  remembrance.  However  this  may 
be,  we  know  nothing  about  it.  All  certain  informa- 
tion breaks  off  here  until  September,  1512.  Numer- 
ous letters,  which  might  be  placed  in  this  interval, 
afford  no  sure  information  from  their  want  of  date, 
and  only  prove  that  Michael  Angelo  continued  to 
work  at  his  painting  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  perhaps 
with  interruptions,  and  that  he  sent  his  receipts  to 
Florence.  The  outward  course  of  things,  however, 
allows  us  to  perceive  that  the  pope  was  completely 
occupied  with  the  politics  of  the  times. 

Negotiations  for  peace  were  ever  going  on.  In 
February,  1511,  a  congress  met  in  Mantua  to  debate 
concerning  it.  The  war,  however,  at  the  same  time 
advanced ;  and  the  pope  soon  took  an  active  part  in 
it.  The  emperor  and  the  King  of  France  designed 
a  war  against  Venice  for  the  spring,  and  wished  to 
force  the  pope  to  join  them.  If  not,  they  were 
resolved  to  call  a  council,  —  that  is,  to  depose  him. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXI. 


THE   CARDINAL   OF   PA  VIA   IN   BOLOGNA  387 

Julius,  on  the  other  hand,  hoped  to  reconcile  Venice 
and  the  emperor,  and,  with  the  help  of  Spain,  to 
form  a  general  coalition  against  the  French. 

The  Archbishop  of  Gurk  was  received  by  the  pope 
at  Bologna  with  distinguished  honors,  as  a  deputy 
of  the  emperor.  Scarcely,  however,  did  he  begin 
to  speak  of  Ferrara,  than  Julius  interrupted  him 
angrily.  Before  he  would  give  up  his  claims  here, 
he  declared  he  would  rather  lose  his  life  and  his 
crown.  They  came  to  no  agreement.  Trivulzio, 
who,  after  Chaumont's  death,  had  commanded  the 
troops  of  the  French  king  in  Lombardy,  advanced 
again  against  Bologna,  and  drove  before  him  the 
valorless,  retreating  army  of  the  pope.  The  pope 
endeavored  to  bring  them  to  a  stand-still :  he  wished 
himself  to  hasten  forward  into  the  midst  of  them ; 
but  the  danger  was  too  pressing,  for  his  Spanish 
auxiliaries  declared  suddenly  that  they  would  with- 
draw. The  Archbishop  of  Gurk  had  effected  this 
with  the  Spanish  ambassador  at  Bologna.  Julius, 
already  on  the  way  to  his  people,  was  obliged,  on 
these  tidings,  to  turn  back.  Again  he  summoned 
together  the  authorities  of  the  city,  represented  to 
them  the  position  of  things,  and  then  retired  from 
Bologna  to  Ravenna.  He  left  the  Cardinal  of  Pavia 
behind  him  in  Bologna.  The  papal  army  lay  outside 
the  city.  The  citizens  declared,  that  they  would 
allow  no  soldier  admission  into  the  city ;  they  would 
defend  themselves  alone. 

The  cardinal  had  two  hundred  light-horse,  and 
about  a  thousand  infantry,  —  insufficient  to  garrison 
BO  extensive  a  place.  He  stood  on  the  worst  terms 


388  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

with  Urbino,  who  lay  encamped  outside.  Each 
would  have  seen  with  joy  the  ruin  of  the  other. 
The  cardinal  now  took  a  part  of  the  armed  people 
into  his  service,  and  gave  some  points  of  the  city 
into  the  hands  of  these  people.  One  of  the  gates 
thus  came  into  the  possession  of  the  adherents  of 
the  Bentivogli,  by  whom  a  message  was  at  once  sent 
to  the  French  camp,  that  the  entrance  to  the  city 
was  open,  and  that  they  might  come.  The  cardinal 
perceived  his  error,  and  hoped  to  make  amends  for 
it  by  giving  orders  to  the  newly  enlisted  men  to 
repair  at  once  to  the  duke's  camp,  as  the  latter  had 
desired.  They  replied  that  they  had  to  guard  the 
city,  and  would  not  give  up  their  posts.  He  now 
endeavored  to  bring  in  from  without  a  thousand 
men  of  experienced  troops ;  but  to  these  they  would 
not  open  the  gates.  With  the  feeling  of  having  lost 
power,  and  in  the  consciousness  of  being  hated  for 
his  cruelty  and  avarice,  the  cardinal  now  retreated 
into  his  castle  so  hastily  that  he  forgot  to  take  with 
him  his  money  and  jewels;  though,  remembering 
them  in  time,  he  had  them  brought  after  him, 
and,  packing  them  up,  accompanied  by  a  few  horse- 
men, he  fled  in  a  south-west  direction  towards 
Imola. 

The  news  at  once  spread  that  he  haa  left.  The 
people  rose.  The  Bentivogli  without  learned  how 
matters  stood,  and  set  out.  They  reached  Bologna 
at  midnight.  The  procession  passed  with  torches 
through  the  streets  to  the  palace  of  the  Government. 
A  statue  of  the  pope,  made  of  gilded  wood,  and 
standing  over  the  gate  of  the  palace,  was  torn  down, 


MURDER   OP   CARDINAL   ALIDOSI.  389 

dragged  round  the  square,  and  burnt ;  while  mus- 
kets were  fired  at  Michael  Angelo's  work. 

Scarcely  had  Urbino  heard  in  the  camp  of  the 
cardinal's  flight,  than  he  himself  immediately  broke 
up.  He  left  every  thing;  fifteen  pieces  of  heavy 
artillery,  standards,  carriages,  baggage,  and  even 
the  personal  property  of  the  last  retreaters,  who 
were  attacked  by  the  French,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy.  The  citadel  of  Bologna  capitulated, 
after  it  had  held  out  fourteen  days,  and  was  pulled 
down  by  the  people. 

In  Ravenna,  where  the  pope  had  tarried,  Urbino 
and  the  Cardinal  of  Pavia  met.  In  the  open  street, 
where  they  encountered  each  other,  the  duke  stabbed 
the  cardinal  in  the  midst  of  his  attendants.  The 
pope  called  upon  Heaven,  and  cried  that  his  best 
friend  had  been  taken  from  him.  The  duke,  on  the 
other  hand,  swore  solemn  oaths  that  he  had  been  a 
traitor,  and  was  to  blame  for  all  the  evil.  At  the 
same  time,  the  tidings  came  that  the  Duke  of  Fer- 
rara  had  again  taken  possession  of  his  dukedom, 
and  that  Trivulzio  stood  with  his  army  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  the  territory  between  Ravenna  and  Bologna. 
He  awaited  nothing  but  the  orders  of  his  sovereign 
to  advance  into  the  undefended  Papal  States. 

It  was,  however,  of  great  importance  to  Louis  to 
preserve  the  appearance  of  an  obedient  son  of  the 
Church.  Instead  of  advancing  with  violence,  he  be- 
gan to  negotiate.  The  Bentivogli,  too,  were  obliged 
to  declare  to  the  pope  that  they  only  held  possession 
of  Bologna  as  obedient  sons  of  the  Church.  The  pope 
set  out  for  Rome.  In  Rimini  he  first  heard  that  in 


390  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Bologna,  Modena,  and  in  other  places,  placards  were 
publicly  posted  up,  on  which  he  was  summoned  be- 
fore the  Council  of  Pisa,  where  the  cardinals  were 
assembling.  Thus  he  arrived  in  Rome,  without  an 
army,  without  Bologna,  without  the  Cardinal  of 
Pavia, — old,  sick,  accused,  and  summoned  to  just- 
ice ;  but  within  his  soul  was  the  old  obstinacy,  and 
the  desire  to  take  vengeance  on  his  foes. 

* 
4. 

There  lies  in  the  papal  dignity  an  element  of  in- 
destructibility, which  will  last  so  long  as  there  are 
Catholic  princes  with  opposing  interests.  The  pope 
stands  between  them  as  the  one  ideal  power,  tena- 
ciously clinging  to  its  designs ;  whilst  the  uncertain 
multitude,  distracted  from  the  first  by  low  ambition, 
surge  around,  able  to  annihilate  his  person,  but  not 
his  office.  The  papacy  will  fall  when  all  Romans  are 
united  in  one  single  kingdom,  and  when  the  people 
are  raised  to  such  a  height  of  mental  culture,  that 
temporal  authority  in  spiritual  hands  appears  an 
absurdity.  Yet  these  are  the  expectations  of  many 
hundred  years  to  come. 

On  the  eve  of  the  day  of  Corpus  Christi,  1511,  the 
pope  had  again  arrived  in  Rome.  He  wished  to 
officiate  himself  the  festivities.  Arrayed  in  all  his 
pomp,  his  calm,  tiara-crowned  brow  contrasted  with 
the  excited  impatience  with  which  the  people  awaited 
events.  Raphael  was  at  that  time  painting  the  Mass 
of  Bolsena,  representing  the  conversion  of  a  priest 
who  would  not  believe  in  the  transubstantiation  of 
the  host.  The  miracle  had  happened  centuries  before ; 


SICKNESS   OF   JULIUS   II.  391 

out  none  the  less  Julius  was  painted  as  present :  we 
see  him  kneeling  at  the  altar,  by  the  side  of  which 
the  confounded  priest  stands.  It  was  intended  to 
show  symbolically  his  firm  confidence  in  the  miracu- 
lous assistance  of  heaven,  and  that  the  doubting 
ones,  like  the  priest  with  the  host,  would  some  day 
repentingly  acknowledge  the  truth. 

He  gathered  together  a  fresh  army ;  he  negotiated 
with  France,  who  had  little  desire  for  war  ;  with  the 
emperor,  whose  vacillation  in  political  affairs  was 
notorious ;  with  Venice,  who  was  still  at  war  with 
Louis  and  Maximilian ;  with  Ferdinand  and  the 
King  of  England,  France's  natural  enemies.  Whilst, 
in  opposition  to  the  council  announced  at  Pisa,  he 
himself  summoned  a  Lateran  Council  at  Rome,  and 
pronounced  the  curse  of  the  Church  upon  the  re- 
bellious cardinals,  he  was  yet  negotiating  with  each 
separately,  and  was  holding  out  alluring  propositions, 
if  they  would  come  to  Rome,  and  attach  themselves 
to  him.  Lastly,  he  made  secret  associations  in  Bo- 
logna, that  the  Bentivogli  might  be  again  expelled 
by  an  insurrection. 

Suddenly  came  a  new  shock.  One  day,  in  the 
middle  of  August,  the  news  spread  through  Rome 
that  the  pope  was  dead.  Julius  lay  sick  and  uncon- 
scious ;  his  end  was  hourly  expected.  The  cardinals, 
instead  of  going  to  Pisa,  set  out  for  Rome.  The 
people  there  were  assembled  on  the  Capitol ;  speeches 
were  being  made  in  favor  of  shaking  off  entirely  the 
hated  priestly  rule,  and  constituting  themselves  a 
free  nation  worthy  of  the  old  name.  There  seemed 
an  end  of  the  everlasting  dominion  of  the  clergy.  It 


392  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

appeared  as  if  at  that  time  but  one  powerful  step  was 
needed  to  tread  out  for  ever  the  old  glimmering 
flame  of  the  Vatican.  But  it  was  only  a  volcano. 
The  pope  rose  vigorously  again  from  his  sick-bed. 
He  concluded  an  alliance  with  Aragon  and  Venice, 
which  was  proclaimed  in  October,  1511,  and  the  ex- 
pressed object  of  which  was  the  protection  of  the  one 
Church.  The  division  threatened  by  the  Pisan 
Council  was  to  be  prevented ;  Bologna  and  Ferrara 
were  to  be  reconquered ;  and  those  who  opposed 
themselves  were  to  be  expelled  from  Italy.  These 
were  the  French,  under  whose  protection  the  Benti- 
vogli  and  the  Este  stood.  The  watchword  of  the 
papal  party  was  the  expulsion  of  the  barbarians  from 
Italy !  —  an  idea  which  excited  the  people  to  enthu- 
siasm, and  surrounded  the  name  of  the  pope  with 
fresh  popular  glory.  This  is  the  meaning  of  that 
famous  expulsion  of  Heliodorus  from  the  Temple, 
the  painting  on  the  wall  of  the  Vatican,  which 
Raphael  began  this  year.  Heliodorus  is  the  King  of 
the  French,  who  is  punished  and  expelled  as  one 
guilty  of  sacrilege,  whilst  Julius  approaches  triumph 
antly  on  the  opposite  side. 

When  we  thus  see  the  origin  of  Raphael's  works, 
they  lose  the  appearance  of  allegories,  for  the  under- 
standing of  which  explanations  are  needed.  He 
stood  with  the  pope  in  the  midst  of  events ;  their 
representation  by  his  hand  was  no  indifferent  orna- 
ment to  an  indifferent  palace,  but  a  symbolic  con- 
centration of  that  which  agitated  the  times  at  that 
moment  most  deeply,  and  was  intelligible  to  the 
people. 


THE  GONFALONIEK   SODEIUNI.  393 


In  the  same  October,  1511,  the  council  was  opened 
in  Rome.  Julius  was  only  awaiting  the  Spanish 
troops  before  he  broke  forth.  This  time,  however, 
not  only  Bologna  and  Ferrara  were  to  submit,  bu 
Florence  also.  Soderini  had  given  Pisa  as  the  meet- 
ing-place of  the  heretical  council ;  Julius  had  laid 
the  city  under  an  interdict ;  the  gonfalonier,  however, 
had  appealed  to  the  heretical  Pisan  Council  itself, 
and  had  then  compelled  the  Florentine  clergy  to 
continue  to  perform  their  functions.  Not  only  were 
the  two  Soderini  to  suffer  for  this  act  of  treason,  but 
the  citizens  also.  And  for  this  end  the  pope  chose 
a  painful  means :  he  placed  over  them  their  old 
masters,  the  Medici.  Giovanni,  the  cardinal,  was 
appointed  legate  in  Bologna ;  and  he  was  given 
authority  to  advance  against  the  Florentines  after 
the  conquest  of  the  city. 

Soderini  had  been  elected  gonfalonier  for  life,  in 
the  year  1502.  The  aristocratic  party,  the  former 
Arrabiati,  united  with  the  Palleski,  had  accomplished 
this  in  opposition  to  the  popular  party,  the  former 
Piagnoni.  Soderini  was  a  relative  of  the  Medici ;  he 
was  mild,  but  well  skilled  in  business,  rich,  old,  and 
childless.  No  sooner  was  he  in  office,  than  he  sud- 
denly changed.  They  had  on  both  sides  reckoned 
on  his  Medicaean  and  aristocratic  inclinations ;  but 
at  once  he  stood  above  all  parties,  and  those  who  had 
raised  him  experienced  from  him  no  greater  con- 
sideration than  the  popular  party,  who  had  opposed 
the  election.  Moderate  and  conciliatory  in  his  policy, 

17* 


894  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL    ANGEI.O. 

both  at  home  and  abroad,  ho  never  allowed  the  dis- 
cord of  the  citizens  to  come  to  an  open  rupture  ;  and 
he  prevented  the  attempts  of  the  Medici  to  creep 
again  into  the  city.  He  was  friendly  and  gentle  in 
his  manner.  A  well-preserved  clay  bust,  colored 
from  life,  in  the  Berlin  Museum,  makes  him  almost 
appear  a  living  man,  so  accurately  does  it  portray  his 
features.  It  is  the  noble  countenance  of  a  man  who 
certainly  possessed  more  goodness  and  mind  than 
vehement  energy,  a  lack  in  Soderini's  character 
which  Macchiavelli  has  rendered  immortal  by  his 
unsparing  raillery.  Patron  of  Leonardo  and  Michael 
Angelo,  he  nevertheless  seems  to  have  been  little  re- 
spected by  either.  For  he  complained  violently  of 
Leonardo,  and  charged  him  with  ingratitude  ;  while 
Michael  Angelo  once  even  publicly  ridiculed  him. 
Soderini  looked  at  the  David,  and  expressed  his 
opinion,  that  some  marble  might  still  be  removed  from 
the  nose.  Michael  Angelo  assented,  took  his  chisel 
and  some  marble  dust  in  his  hand,  and,  seeming  to 
work  about  the  nose,  he  let  the  white  dust  fall  to  the 
ground,  upon  which  the  gonfalonier  expressed,  him- 
self well  satisfied  at  the  favorable  effect  of  the 
improvement  suggested  by  him. 

The  nobles  saw  themselves  painfully  deceived  by 
Soderini's  unexpected  conduct.  They  had  hoped 
by  his  election  to  set  aside  the  consiglio  grande,  the 
one  democratic  chamber,  where  the  majority  of  votes 
carried  the  day,  and  in  which  —  although  after 
Savonarola's  death  a  stricter  form  of  election  had 
been  introduced — they  could  not  hold  their  ground 
without  difficulty.  Their  hopes  were  again  baffled, 


CAKDINAL   MEDICI.  395 

of  placing  an  aristocracy  of  the  richest  families  at 
the  head  of  the  State.  For  this  reason,  as  soon 
as  Soderini's  desertion  became  evident,  he  began  to 
be  hated  by  those  who  had  promoted  him ;  and  the 
ambitious  younger  nobles  of  the  city  (the  old  Com- 
pagnacci)  assumed  a  hostile  attitude,  and  meditated 
an  overthrow  of  the  constitution. 

The  Medici  availed  themselves  of  this  feeling. 
After  Piero's  death,  the  cardinal  was  the  head  of  the 
family,  a  man  genuinely  Medicaean  in  character. 
The  spirit  of  the  old  Cosmo  and  Lorenzo  lived  anew 
in  him ;  and  his  conduct  towards  the  Florentines 
was  from  henceforth  entirely  in  conformity  with 
theirs. 

The  Medici  seem  no  longer  to  have  thought  of  a 
violent  restoration  of  things.  The  cardinal  resided 
in  Rome  at  the  court  of  Julius ;  he  kept  open 
house  with  splendor  and  generosity ;  whoever  came 
from  Florence,  and  presented  himself,  was  well  re- 
ceived; and  no  political  profession  was  needed  to 
prove  himself  a  friend  of  the  family.  All  were 
his  dear  countrymen ;  the  strife  of  parties  and 
the  plans  of  Piero  wero  forgotten.  The  cardinal 
knew  how  to  discourse,  and  to  give.  He  scarcely 
cared  that  the  property  of  the  family  was  ebbing 
rapidly. 

At  the  same  time,  however,  his  relatives  were 
laboring  in  Florence  ;  above  all,  his  sister  Lucretia, 
who,  married  to  Jacopo  Salviati,  became  the  rally- 
mg-point  of  the  nobles  hostile  to  Soderini.  For 
these  rich  families  must  ultimately  have  been  called 
iioblcs,  although  Savonarola  answered  justly,  when  it 


396  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

was  said  that  the  nobles  fared  ill  in  Florence,  "  We 
have  no  nobles  here,  only  citizens  :  there  are  nobles 
hi  Venice."  Indeed,  the  name  of  noble  among  the 
Florentines  implied  nothing  but  money ;  for  none  of 
their  great  lords  had  castles  and  subjects  over  which 
jurisdiction  was  allowed  them. 

The  name  of  Medici  lost  its  hateful  sound  in  Flor- 
ence. They  were  no  longer  the  vindictive  foes, 
inciting  France  and  Italy  against  the  city,  and  steal- 
ing like  foxes  round  the  dove-cot.  With  the  remem- 
brance of  Piero,  all  fear  of  them  had  vanished.  A 
new  generation  had  sprung  up,  calling  to  mind  rather 
the  brilliant  virtues  of  Lorenzo  than  the  faults  of  his 
unhappy  son.  They  longed  for  the  good  old  times, 
when  the  nobles  shared  the  power  of  a  chief,  consid- 
erate for  them,  and  issuing  from  among  themselves  ; 
whilst  now  they  were  obliged  to  submit  to  a  renegade 
coquetting  with  the  people.  They  would  have  liked 
to  recall  the  Medici,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  over- 
throwing Soderini. 

The  appointment  of  the  cardinal  as  legate  at 
Bologna  occurred  at  the  right  time.  His  property 
was  fast  ebbing  away :  without  such  a  post  as  this, 
he  could  not  have  continued  to  carry  on  his  splendid 
mode  of  living.  In  Bologna  something  was  to  be 
gained ;  so  that,  even  if  the  plans  on  Florence  failed, 
the  pecuniary  assistance  was  immense.  In  January, 
1512,  Medici  appeared  with  the  Spanish  auxiliaries 
before  Bologna,  and  the  siege  began.  Within  the 
city  were  the  Bentivogli,  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  and 
Lautrec,  on  the  side  of  France.  It  now  fared  ill 
with  Michael  Angelo's  statue.  On  the  last  day  but 


THE    FRENCH   VICTORIOUS.  897 

one  of  the  year  1511,  a  herald,  sent  in  advance  by 
the  army,  appeared  in  the  city,  and  demanded  imme- 
diate surrender  in  such  haughty  accents,  that  the 
Bentivogii  threw  him  into  prison,  and  only  liberated 
him  again  on  the  persuasions  of  their  friends.  The 
statue  of  the  pope  was  thrown  down,  and  mutilated. 
The  Duke  of  Perrara  obtained  the  metal  in  exchange 
for  the  cannons  he  furnished.  The  head  alone, 
which  weighed  six  hundred  pounds,  was  preserved, 
and  was  for  a  long  time  to  be  seen  in  Ferrara.  The 
rest  was  melted  down. 

On  the  26th  January,  the  bombardment  began ; 
the  walls  were  at  the  same  time  undermined.  On  the 
2d  February,  however,  Gaston  de  Foix,  who  had 
come  from  Lombardy  with  the  French  auxiliaries, 
succeeded  in  entering  the  city  so  secretly,  that  the 
Spaniards  without  did  not  hear  of  his  presence  until 
he  had  been  long  within  the  gates.  They  now  re- 
solved at  once  to  raise  the  siege.  On  the  6th  they 
retreated.  The  French  pursued  them,  carrying  off 
horses,  cannons,  and  military  baggage,  and  would 
have  destroyed  the  army,  if  they  had  not  been 
checked  by  fear  of  stratagem. 

As  soon  as  Gaston  de  Foix  had,  however,  after  this 
success,  returned  to  Lombardy,  where  he  defeated 
the  Venetians,  the  cardinal  again  advanced  before 
Bologna.  It  was  now  March.  Once  more  the 
French  appeared ;  once  more  the  Spaniards  retreated, 
De  Foix  behind  them,  as  far  as  Ravenna.  There,  on 
the  first  day  of  Easter,  1512,  a  battle  took  place, 
in  which  the  Spaniards  were  brilliantly  defeated. 
The  French  commander-in-chief,  however,  lost  liis 


398  LIFE   OP  MICHAEI    ANGELO. 

life.  He  was  young,  handsome,  and  chivalrous, — 
one  of  the  poetic  beings  of  that  day. 

This  battle  has  become  famous  from  the  fearful 
nature  of  the  contest.  The  Spaniards  at  that  time 
were  considered,  after  the  Swiss,  the  first  soldiers  in 
the  world ;  and  it  cost  the  French  immense  effort 
to  carry  off  the  victory.  The  national  honor  was  at 
stake  on  both  sides.  Ten  thousand  dead  were  left 
on  the  field.  A  number  of  noble  Spaniards  were 
taken  prisoners  by  the  French.  Cardinal  Medici 
was  captured  by  the  Stradiots,  and  brought  to  the 
Cardinal  of  San  Severino,  who,  like  himself,  but 
in  the  name  of  the  Pisan  Council,  was  legate  of 
Bologna.  The  whole  Romagna  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  French ;  and  the  way  to  Rome  again  stood 
open  to  them. 

The  sad  tidings  arrived  there  on  the  13th  April. 
The  cardinals  hastened  to  the  pope,  and  conjured 
him  to  make  peace ;  for  not  only  the  victorious 
enemy,  but  also  the  Roman  nobility  —  the  Colonna, 
Savelli,  and  others,  who  had  received  money  from 
Louis  —  threatened  immediate  danger  to  the  pope. 
The  ambassadors  from  Venice  and  Spain  dissuaded 
from  over-hasty  resolutions.  Julius  wavered.  He 
had  gone  to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  and  a  number 
of  the  cardinals  had  already  fled  to  Naples,  when 
Giulio  dei  Medici,  a  cousin  of  the  captive  cardinal, 
an  illegitimate  son  of  that  Giuliano  who  was  mur- 
dered by  the  Pazzi,  arrived  in  Rome,  and  reported 
the  plunder  of  Ravenna.  At  the  same  time,  how- 
ever, he  brought  intelligence  that  the  leaders  of  the 
French,  divided  among  themselves,  were  disputing 


OPENING  OF  THE  LATERAN  COUNCIL.     399 

with  the  Cardinal  of  San  Severino ;  and  that  the 
Swiss,  for  whose  favor  papal,  imperial,  and  royal 
envoys  were  exerting  themselves,  had  decided  for 
the  pope,  and  were  ready  to  make  their  way  into 
Lombardy.  If  this  were  to  take  place,  every  thing 
would  wear  a  different  aspect.  The  French  would 
then  be  necessary  in  the  north;  Bologna  and  the 
Romagua  would  again  be  a  possible  prey.  Still  the 
pope  delayed,  and  showed  himself  inclined  to  come 
to  terms  with  the  King  of  France.  It  was  perhaps 
only  an  artifice  for  keeping  the  French  away  from 
Rome,  and  for  awaiting  more  certain  information 
from  Switzerland.  At  length  he  learned  that  the 
French  troops  had  marched  towards  the  north. 
His  fear  and  good-will  towards  Louis  now  vanished. 
The  Roman  barons,  who  had  received  money  from 
the  king,  and  were  on  the  point  of  rebelling,  entered 
the  pope's  service  with  their  men  ;  war  began  anew ; 
and,  on  the  3d  May,  the  Lateran  Council  in  Rome 
was  opened  with  extraordinary  splendor ;  while 
Cardinal  Medici  in  Milan,  which  he  had  entered 
more  as  a  conqueror  than  a  prisoner,  absolved  those 
soldiers,  in  the  name  of  the  pope,  who  had  fought 
against  the  holy  Church.  Giulio  dei  Medici,  who 
was  again  with  him,  had  brought  him  authority  to 
do  this.  The  secretaries  were  scarcely  able  to  des- 
patch singly  all  the  letters  of  indulgence.  Thiu 
the  material  with  which  war  was  at  tliat  time  carried 
on  —  the  common  despised  mercenary  —  made  grave 
political  questions  subservient  to  the  low  religious 
necessities  of  his  limited  mind.  For  united  with 
this  indulgence  was  the  promise  of  the  receiver, 


400  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

never  to  serve  again  against  the  Church.  And  this 
took  place  under  the  eyes  of  the  Pisan  Council, 
which  had  now  withdrawn  to  Milan. 

The  union  of  the  Swiss  with  the  Venetians  now 
soon  followed.  Maximilian  allowed  the  march 
through  the  Tyrol.  The  French  retreated.  It  was 
said  that  Milan  was  to  be  reconquered  for  the  sons 
of  Sforza,  its  lawful  masters.  Medici,  who  had  been 
taken  by  the  French  army,  escaped.  The  whole  of 
Lombardy,  with  the  exception  of  some  small  places, 
was  lost  to  the  king.  The  governor  fled  from 
Genoa,  and  a  man  named  Fregoso  was  appointed 
doge.  French  policy  had  again  arrived  at  one  of 
those  stages  where  loss  follows  loss. 

The  successful  flight  of  the  cardinal  was  recorded 
by  Raphael's  picture  in  the  apartments  of  the 
Vatican,  which  represents  Peter's  deliverance  from 
prison ;  the  general  defeat  of  the  French  was  sym 
bolized  by  the  march  of  Attila,  —  both  of  them  the 
first  wall  paintings  which  Medici  ordered  to  be  exe- 
cuted after  he  became  pope. 

Bologna  was  now  defenceless.  The  Duke  of 
Urbino  advanced  before  the  city;  the  citizens  in- 
duced the  Bentivogli  to  depart ;  they  withdrew  with 
a  thousand  horse  to  Ferrara,  whose  duke,  aban- 
doned like  themselves,  expected  a  critical  future. 
The  pope  declared  at  once  all  places  in  which 
the  Bentivogli  were  received,  to  have  fallen  under 
the  ban  of  the  Church.  Bologna  did  what  she 
could  to  appease  him ;  but  the  disgracefully  de- 
stroyed statue  could  not  be  reproduced  by  magic. 
Julius  was  so  furious,  that  he  wished  completely 


FLORENCE   IN   1512.  401 

to  destroy  the  city,  and  to  settle  the  citizens  in 
another  place. 

Yet  even  now,  when  he  seemed  so  completely  to 
rule  things,  he  could  not  do  as  he  would.  The 
most  powerful  man  in  the  land  was  the  King  of 
Spain  and  Naples,  who  placed  his  troops  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  pope  for  forty  thousand  crowns  monthly. 
It  was  necessary  to  concede  to  him  that  Ferrara 
should  remain  unmolested.  In  Ferdinand's  hands 
also  lay  the  fate  of  the  Florentines,  against  whom 
Cardinal  Medici  wished  to  employ  the  Spanish  troops. 

In  Mantua,  where  a  congress  took  place  of  those 
powers  which  had  been  engaged  in  the  undertaking 
against  France,  the  fate  of  Florence  was  decided. 
Maximilian  wished  to  undertake  his  coronation 
journey  to  Rome ;  he  wanted  money  for  it,  and 
desired  a  fixed  sum.  The  King  of  Spain  needed 
money  to  pay  his  soldiers.  The  Medici  offered 
freely  whatever  they  both  demanded,  if  they  would 
only  first  help  him  to  the  possession  of  the  city,  — 
the  king  with  his  troops,  the  emperor  with  his  au- 
thority ;  for  Florence  was  an  old  imperial  .fief.  Had 
the  Florentines  themselves  at  once  given  these 
sums,  the  King  of  Spain  would  have  agreed  to  the  re- 
maining of  the  gonfalonier,  and  to  the  continuance 
of  the  constitution  ;  for,  although  he  had  helped  the 
pope  to  the  victory,  he  did  not  now  much  care  to 
strengthen  his  power  to  a  great  extent.  It  must 
have  been  completely  indifferent  to  the  emperor 
where  the  money  came  from,  so  long  as  it  came  at 
all.  Cardinal  Soderini  was  in  Mantua,  and  carried 
on  the  negotiations.  In  his  reports,  he  urged  his 


402  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

brother  to  act  decisively.  But  the  perfidy  of  the 
different  parties  made  it  impossible  for  the  gon- 
falonier to  effect  any  resolution.  They  left  him 
alone,  and  the  cardinal  was  without  orders. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Spanish  troops  began  to 
revolt.  Don  Raimondo  di  Cordona,  the  commander, 
was  obliged,  on  any  terms,  to  endeavor  to  procure 
money  for  them  for  their  pay.  The  Medici  availed 
themselves  of  the  doubtful  state  of  things ;  and 
before  Cardinal  Soderini,  in  Mantua  itself,  fully 
surmised  that  the  matter  was  concluded,  the  Spanish 
army  had  marched  past  Bologna  into  Tuscany,  with 
the  declared  intention  of  overthrowing  the  constitu- 
tion of  Florence  and  re-instating  the  Medici. 

It  was  impossible  to  oppose  the  Spaniards  in  the 
open  field.  Not  that  there  were  supplies  within 
the  city.  Still,  time  and  money  might  have  averted 
the  danger,  if  the  Spaniards  had  been  the  only 
enemy  without.  The  party  of  the -aristocrats,  how- 
ever, arranged  events.  They  urged  their  cause 
with  an  ease  which  only  appears  explicable  from  the 
extremely  mild  character  of  Soderini.  They  hin- 
dered every  resolution  taken  by  the  Government ; 
they  represented  the  position  of  things,  as  if  the 
Medici  only  aimed  at  obtaining  the  right  of  being 
permitted  to  dwell  in  the  city  as  mere  private 
people.  The  gonfalonier  wished  to  leave  every 
thing  to  the  decision  of  the  people.  In  a  touching 
address,  he  spoke  of  himself  and  his  intentions: 
his  tears  rose :  he  was  an  old  man  who  had  no  per- 
sonal foes,  who  was  guided  not  by  ambition,  but  by 
goodness.  He  desired  to  be  allowed  to  lay  down 


FLORENCE   IN   1512.  403 

nrs  office.  Under  no  circumstances  would  they 
permit  this.  The  Medici  could  return,  they  decided, 
as  private  people,  but  as  nothing  else.  They  re- 
solved to  make  preparations,  and  to  defend  them- 
selves and  the  small  fortresses  round  the  city  with 
the  troops  they  possessed. 

The  popular  party  had  evidently  still  the  upper- 
hand  in  these  resolutions ;  but  the  Palleski  knew 
how  to  place  crippling  impediments  in  the  way  of 
their  execution.  A  deadness  of  feeling,  a  sense  of 
insecurity,  overcame  the  citizens ;  and  the  affecting 
appearance  of  the  gonfalonier  could  not  compensate 
for  his  lack  of  animating  energy. 

Cor  dona  advanced  as  far  as  Prato,  which,  a  few 
miles  distant  from  Florence,  was  garrisoned  and 
fortified.  He  could  not  advance  further.  In  the 
late  summer  the  level  land  afforded  no  sustenance  ; 
provisions  were  stored  in  Florence  and  the  smaller 
cities.  Hunger  and  sickness  appeared.  Cordona 
came  down  in  his  proposals :  Soderini  was  to  re- 
main ;  and  the  citizens  were  to  stipulate  the  condi- 
tions under  which  the  returning  Medici  were  to  be 
received.  For  himself  he  desired  a  moderate  sum, 
only  to  pay  his  soldiers,  and  to  leave  the  country. 
This  resolution  was  induced  by  the  fact,  that  King 
Ferdinand  began  to  consider  the  subjection  of  Flor- 
ence as  too  great  a  concession  to  the  pope,  and  to 
doubt  whether  he  should  permit  it,  —  a  state  of 
feeling,  which  soon  so  completely  gained  the  upper- 
hand,  that  he  sent  Cordona  strict  orders  to  turn 
back,  and  to  leave  things  in  Tuscany  in  their  old 
condition. 


404  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

But,  before  these  final  resolutions  had  arrived, 
Cordona  had  acted.  The  city  refused  him  provi- 
sions, of  which  he  stood  urgently  in  need.  Baldas 
sare  Carducci,  whom  the  gonfalonier  had  sent  to  the 
Spanish  camp,  concluded  an  agreement;  the  Pal- 
leski  in  the  city,  however,  delayed  to  accept  it  on 
the  part  of  the  citizens.  Cordona,  in  the  worst 
position,  attempted  a  hold  stroke.  He  attacked 
Prato  unawares,  —  a  fort  considered  in  Florence  as 
impregnable,  —  carried  it  by  storm,  and  allowed  the 
soldiers  to  plunder  it.  Fearfully  did  they  behave 
there.  An  alarm  spread  through  Florence  at-  these 
tidings,  as  at  the  first  acts  of  the  French  in  the  yeai 
1494.  This  time  also  strange  thunder-claps  had 
foretold  the  threatening  future ;  this  time  also  that 
mental  heaviness  prevailed  which  proved  the  unsta- 
ble character  of  the  general  state  of  things.  There 
was,  moreover,  no  man  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
State  as  the  natural  support  of  weak  minds ;  and,  as 
if  in  mocking  accompaniment  to  the  great  helpless- 
ness, appeared  the  increasing  arrogance  of  the  Pal- 
leski,  who,  in  the  camp  outside,  in  secret  intercourse 
with  the  Medici,  concerted  the  adoption  of  a  com- 
mon policy. 

The  conquest  of  Prato  at  once  altered  Cordona's 
demands.  Money  and  provisions  were  to  be  had ; 
and  the  neighboring  Pistoja,  seeing  the  cruelties 
perpetrated  by  the  Spaniards  in  Prato,  agreed  vol- 
untarily to  furnish  what  the  army  required.  With 
regard  to  Florence,  the  demands  now  were  the 
absence  of  Soderini,  fifty  thousand  ducats  for  the 
emperor,  fifty  thousand  for  Cordova,  fifty  thousand 


FLIGHT   OF   SODEKINI.  405 

for  the  army.  The  Medici,  on  the  other  hand, 
desired  ever  but  the  one  thing,  —  to  be  allowed, 
without  any  privileges,  to  return  as  simple  private 
people  to  their  native  city. 

Had  they  paid  quickly,  freedom  might  yet  have 
been  saved  ;  fof  the  Spaniards  required  money. 
But  the  Medicaean  party  would  allow  nothing  speedy. 
The  Palleski  began  to  leave  the  city,  and  concerted 
with  Julius  dei  Medici  how  it  would  be  best  to  act. 
On  the  second  day  after  the  storming  of  Prato, 
Bartolomeo  and  Paolo  Yalori,  two  energetic  young 
men,  who  desired  a  subversion  of  things  on  account 
of  their  great  debts,  forced  their  way  into  the  apart- 
ment of  the  gonfalonier,  and  offered  him  the  choice 
of  death  or  flight,  in  which  they  would  assist  him. 
Soderini  had  long  ago  wished  to  withdraw.  His 
friends,  however,  had  prevented  him  from  taking 
this  step :  he  now,  therefore,  allowed  himself  to  be 
conveyed  into  the  house  of  the  Vettori,  who,  with 
the  Yalori,  were  the  principal  originators  of  this 
plan ;  and  accompanied  by  many  members  of  his 
family,  and  with  a  guard  besides  of  forty  archers,  he 
rode  away  in  the  night  of  the  30th  August.  His 
avowed  intention  was  to  go  through  Siena  to  Rome, 
where  the  pope  had  promised  him  protection.  His 
brother,  the  cardinal,  however,  warned  him  in  good 
time.  The  pope  had  wished  to  allure  him  into  the 
snare  of  a  journey  to  Rome,  solely  on  account  of  his 
riches.  On  his  way  there,  the  gonfalonier  suddenly 
turned  from  the  road  to  Rome,  and  arrived  safely 
at  Ancona,  from  whence  he  crossed  the  sea  to 
Ragusa. 


406  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

By  this  threat  of  laying  violent  hands  on  Soderini, 
the  friends  of  the  Medici  had  induced  the  Signiory, 
on  the  same  day,  to  declare  the  gonfalonier  deposed. 
The  city  came  to  terms  with  Cordona ;  the  Medici 
returned,  at  their  express  desire,  as  private  people 
only ;  Florence  entered  the  league  •  against  France ; 
the  emperor  received  forty  thousand,  the  Spanish 
army  eighty  thousand  ducats,  Cordona  twenty  thou- 
sand for  his  own  disposal.  At  the  first  payment,  he 
pledged  himself  to  leave  the  Florentine  territory. 
With  regard  to  the  Medicasan  property,  sold  by  the 
exchequer,  the  old  lords  desired  nothing  more  than 
that  they  should  he  allowed,  within  a  given  time, 
to  purchase  it  back  for  ready  money. 

While  these  things  were  being  discussed  in  their 
closest  details,  and  nothing  was  finally  concluded, 
Giuliano  dei  Medici  arrived  in  the  city ;  and,  sur- 
rounded by  his  followers,  rode  through  the  streets. 
According  to  law,  he  might  have  been  put  to  death ; 
for  he  was  still  only  an  exile.  Soon  Cordona  ap- 
peared, solemnly  introduced  by  Paolo  Vettori  into 
the  consiglio  grande ;  where,  in  the  midst  of  the 
Signiory,  he  placed  himself  on  Soderini's  empty  seat, 
and  urged,  in  an  address,  that  they  should,  by  suita- 
ble measures,  make  the  position  of  the  Medici  in  the 
city  more  secure.  He  did  not  explain  himself  fur- 
ther. His  words  were  received  with  unfavorable 
amazement ;  but  the  odium  fell  rather  on  Vettori, 
who,  as  it  were,  had  brought  Cordona  into  the  con- 
siglio. 

I  relate  these  events  the  more  accurately,  because 
the  policy  of  the  Medici  appears  so  plainly  in  them. 


THE   MEDICI.    MASTERS   OF    FLORENCE.  407 

Always  holding  back  modestly,  always  pushing  for- 
ward others,  never  asking  any  thing,  allowing  every 
thing  to  be  urged  upon  them,  and  at  the  same  time 
having  things  completely  in  their  own  hands,  —  this 
was  their  mode  of  action.  But  it  is  especially 
important  to  observe  how  they  made  use  of  tempo- 
rizing means.  They  knew  well  the  nature  of  the 
citizens,  who  prefer  to  take  the  most  illegal  grounds 
as  legal,  so  long  as  definite  propositions  can  be 
regularly  discussed  on  them,  than  to  demand  a  solid 
basis  before  all  things.  For  this  reason  the  Medici 
rarely  opposed,  and  permitted  the  good  people  to 
debate  and  determine.  It  is  marvellous  how  the 
latter  allowed  them  afterwards  to  build  up  at  will 
the  true  foundations  of  the  whole  state  of  things. 

Cordona  had  nothing  to  do  and  nothing  to  say 
in  the  consiglio  ;  yet  they  discussed  his  proposals. 
He  suggested,  that  a  number  of  citizens  should  be 
chosen  as  representatives  of  the  city,  and  an  equal 
number  of  the  Medici's  adherents  should  be  ap- 
pointed ;  who,  in  union  with  Cordona,  standing 
among  them  as  an  impartial  umpire,  should  receive 
dictatorial  authority  to  fill  the  offices  anew.  This 
was  one  proposal.  Another  was,  that,  from  among 
those  who  had  filled  the  highest  offices  of  the  State, 
and  from  among  fifty  citizens,  who  were  to  be  nom- 
inated from  the  highest  colleagues  officiating  at  the 
time,  a  senate  was  to  be  chosen.  Moreover,  eight 
young  men,  lacking  the  requisite  age,  were  to  be 
declared  capable  of  office,  that  the  good  services  of 
some  younger  Palleski  might  be  rewarded.  Lastly, 
a  gonfalonier  was  to  be  chosen  for  a  year,  with  a 


408  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

salary  of  four  hundred  ducats  ;  and  so  forth.  With 
such  proposals  the  time  went  by.  In  the  consiglio 
grande,  by  a  majority  of  three  against  two,  a  man 
named  Rodolfi  was  elected  gonfalonier  for  a  year: 
he  was  a  near  relative  of  the  Medici,  but  at  the  same 
time  a  Piagnoni.  The  choice  excited  general  satis- 
faction. 

Meanwhile  the  Spaniards  remained  in  the  land. 
The  soldiers  came  more  frequently  into  the  city. 
They  brought  in,  on  wagons,  the  booty  from  Prato, 
and  offered  it  for  sale.  This  continued  through 
September.  On  the  evening  of  the  loth,  Cardinal 
Medici  was  to  be  solemnly  received  in  the  palace  of 
the  Signiory.  The  nobles  assembled  in  expectation. 
He  came  not.  They  began  to  fear  evil.  All  was 
dark  and  quiet  in  the  palace  of  the  Medici :  their 
minds  were  relieved.  On  the  following  morning, 
however,  the  Medici  arrived.  Foreign  and  native 
friends,  in  arms,  surrounded  them:  amid  the  cry, 
"  Palle,  palle  !  "  they  proceeded  to  the  square.  The 
Signiory  were  sitting  above  :  Giuliano  dei  Medici 
entered  the  hall ;  others  followed  him.  They  in- 
quired what  he  wanted.  He  asked  nothing  but  his 
security,  —  an  answer  repeated  by  his  attendants 
in  chorus.  Questions  and  answers  now  followed  in 
rapid  succession.  They  resolved  that  the  parliament 
should  be  coavoked. 

The  great  bell  was  sounded.  The  citizens  gath- 
ered together  in  arms  in  the  square.  The  enemies 
of  the  Medici  took  care  to  make  themselves  conspicu- 
ous. The  Signiory  stood  011  the  orator's  platform, 
by  the  side  of  the  palace  gate  (this  was  the  first 


THE   MEDICI,    MASTERS    OF    FLOKENCE.  409 

revolution  which  Michael  Angelo's  David  witnessed). 
Giuliano  stood  there  also,  —  the  great  standard  of 
the  city  in  his  hand :  and  the  fifty-five  were  elected. 
Strangers  and  soldiers  voted  as  well  as  citizens  ; 
for  the  troops  of  the  republic  had  all  entered  the 
city,  to  show  themselves  ready  to  serve  the  Medici, 
the  new  lords  of  the  city.  The  fifty-five  annulled  the 
consiglio  grande,  filled  the  offices  anew,  and  abol- 
ished the  national  army  that  had  been  introduced, — 
a  kind  of  militia,  —  in  the  establishment  of  which 
Macchiavelli  had  been  especially  interested.  The 
palace  of  the  Government  received  a  garrison  of 
Spanish  troops,  under  Paolo  Yettori.  At  length 
the  exiled  family  met  in  the  palace  of  the  Medici ; 
the  city  had  returned,  in  the  most  legitimate  way. 
under  their  dominion. 

Michael  Angelo  was  not  there  to  experience  the 
shame.  He  was  in  Rome.  Letters,  however,  to  his 
father,  at  this  time,  show  how  deeply  he  felt  what 
had  happened,  and  how  his  family  had  to  suffer  in 
the  general  misery  that  ensued. 


±10  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


CHAPTER  NINTH. 

1512—1518. 

Vain  Effort  for  Sebastian  del  Piombo — Julius's  last  Undertakings, 
and  Death  —  The  Mausoleum  —  New  Contract  —  The  Moses 

—  The   Dying  Youths  —  Destruction   of  the   Cartoon  of  the 
Bathing    boldiers  —  Bandinelli  —  The   Medici  at  the  Height 
of  their  Power  —  Leo  X.  in  Florence  —  Faqade  of  San  Lorenzo 

—  Works  in  Carrara  —  Call  to  Rome  —  Undertaking  of  the 
Facade  —  Leonardo  da  Vinci  —  Sojourn  in  Rome  —  Raphael  — 
Painting  in  the  Farnesina^-  Sebastian  del  Piombo's  Scourging 
of  Christ  in  San  Pietro  in  Montorio,  and  the  Raising  of  Lazarus. 

"  TTvEAREST  FATHER,"  writes  Michael  Angelo 
•*-*  to  the  old  Ludovico,  after  the  taking  of  the 
city,  "  You  say  in  your  last  letter  that  I  ought  to 
keep  no  money  at  home,  and  carry  none  about  with 
me ;  and,  also,  that  it  is  said  with  you  that  I  have 
expressed  myself  unfavorably  respecting  the  Medici. 
As  regards  the  money,  whatever  I  have  is  in  the 
bank  at  Balducci's ;  and  I  have  at  home  or  iu  my 
pocket  only  what  I  require  for  daily  expenditure. 
With  respect  to  the  Medici,  I  have  never  spoken 
against  them,  otherwise  than  all  the  world  have 
judged  them.  Thus,  for  example,  respecting  what 
happened  in  Prato.  The  hard  stones  would  have 
spoken  of  that,  if  they  had  had  a  voice.  And  in 
this  manner  much  has  been  said  of  them  which  I 


MICHAEL   ANGELO   AND   KAPHAEL.  411 

have  heard  and  repeated,  —  whether  it  can  be  true 
that  they  have  thus  behaved  so  badly  ;  yet  I  will  not 
say  that  I  believe  it,  and  God  grant  it  may  be  false. 
Four  weeks  ago,  somebody,  who  calls  himself  my  best 
friend,  inveighed  very  strongly  against  them  to  me  ; 
I,  however,  forbid  myself  to  do  so,  and  told  him  that 
it  was  not  right  to  speak  so,  and  he  must  be  silent. 
It  would  be  well  if  Buonarroto  could  secretly  find 
out  who  has  made  the  statement  that  I  have  spoken 
against  the  Medici ;  I  could  then  inquire  whether  it 
originates  with  one  of  those  who  were  so  friendly 
with  me,  and  can  take  care  in  future.  I  am  at  pres- 
.  ent  without  work,  and  wait  until  the  pope  gives  me 
a  commission."* 

Michael  Angelo  had  completed  the  paintings  in 
the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  was  carrying  on  the  work 
at  Julius's  mausoleum,  at  his  own  risk  it  seems,  and 
without  having  been  commissioned  afresh  to  do  so. 
The  pope  was  very  old;  and,  after  his  death,  the 
completion  of  the  monument  was  to  be  taken  for 
granted. 

At  the  same  time,  Michael  Angelo  pursued  other 
plans.  Under  Julius's  government,  the  Vatican  had 
become  the  battle-field  for  the  jealousies  of  artists. 
We  have  seen  how  Raphael  endeavored  to  force  his 
way  into  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  how^he  failed  in 
doing  so  ;  and  now,  advancing  from  room  to  room, 
he  created  monuments  of  his  fame  in  the  papal  apart- 
ments. Michael  Angelo,  on  the  other  hand,  after 
the  chapel  was  completed,  now  aimed  at  forcing  his 
way  where  Raphael  was  at  work  with  his  party.  He 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXII 


412  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

did  not  himself  wish  to  paint,  but  to  obtain  work 
there  for  the  one  artist  who  adhered  to  him,  while 
almost  all  the  rest  stood  on  the  side  of  Raphael :  he 
wished  Sebastian  del  Piombo  to  execute  wall  paint- 
ings in  one  of  the  halls,  the  cartoons  for  which 
Michael  Angelo  would  design. 

Michael  Angelo's  position  at  Rome  was  not  at  that 
time  an  easy  one.  He  openly  said  he  had  worked 
for  the  pope  without  receiving  pay.  Julius,  sadly 
embarrassed,  was  rarely  present ;  and,  when  he  came, 
he  was  filled  with  thoughts  which  naturally  made 
him  appear  to  have  completely  neglected  his  artistic 
undertakings.  However, this  was  not  the  cause:  a 
separation  had  actually  taken  place  between  the 
pope  and  Michael  Angelo.  The  mausoleum  was 
delayed ;  and  he  was  assigned  no  further  commis- 
sions. Raphael  openly  occupied  the  position  in  the 
Vatican  which  Michael  Angelo  had  hitherto  pos- 
sessed ;  and  Michael  Angelo's  attempts  to  exert  his 
wonted  influence  for  himself  and  his  pupils  had  little 
prospect  of  success. 

It  was  not,  however,  the  novelty  and  attractiveness 
of  his  appearance  that  allowed  Raphael  thus  to  carry 
away  the  victory ;  but  there  was  a  quality  in  his 
works,  with  respect  to  which  he  surpassed  Michael 
Angelo  to  so^  great  an  extent,  that  the  latter  never 
even  made  the  attempt  to  combat  with  him  here. 
Raphael  displayed  a  power  in  giving  his  works  the 
most  beautiful  coloring  ;  and  this  was  so  great,  that 
Michael  Angelo's  paintings,  when  placed  by  the  side 
of  his,  had  only  the  effect  of  colored  drawings,  care- 
fully as  the  coloring  and  the  shadows  were  always 


SEBASTIAN   DEL    PIOMBO.  413 

devised  and  applied.  Raphael  owed  it  to  Michael 
Angelo  alone,  that  he  had  risen  to  that  higher  stage 
of  excellence  during  the  first  years  of  his  labors  in 
Rome ;  no\v,  however,  he  surpassed  his  master.  His 
paintings,  from  the  time  when  the  Sistine  Chapel 
was  completed,  enchanted  the  Romans  by  expressing 
something  delightfully  human,  touching  the  heart 
at  once,  —  a  feeling  which  Michael  Angelo  by  no 
means  understood  how  to  bestow  on  his  magnifi- 
cently solemn  figures.  A  new  school  of  aspiring 
artists  nocked  round  Raphael.  It  was  disputed  in 
Rome,  which  of  the  two  masters  was  the  greater; 
and,  as  they  both  appeared  so  great,  and  Raphael, 
young,  attractive,  and  rich  in  the  power  of  color, 
unfolded  a  new  element  in  art,  it  is  no  •wonder  if  he 
obtained  precedence. 

As  regards  the  technical  part,  Sebastian  del  Pi- 
oinbo  perhaps  could  alone  have  ventured  to  oppose 
him.  He  had  come  from  Venice.  He  had  studied 
with  Giorgione,  and  had  acquired  his  trembling,  soft 
coloring.  Designing  was  not  his  strong  point ;  but 
for  this  there  was  now  Michael  Angelo.  Both 
parties  appealed  to  the  pope.  We  know  not  what 
was  the  course  of  the  contest,  and  to  what  pitch 
things  came ;  nor  have  we  even  intimations  of  what 
was  to  be  painted,  —  only  a  letter  of  Sebastian's  to 
Michael  Angelo  carries  us  for  a  moment  into  the 
midst  of  the  contest ;  and  the  silence  that  succeeded 
alone  informs  us,  that  it  ended  in  favor  of  Raphael's 
pupils. 

Michael  Angelo  seems  to  have  set  out  for  his 
native  city  shortly  after  the  Florentine  revolution. 


414  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

The  affair  of  the  painting  in  the  Vatican  was  unde- 
cided when  he  departed.  Sebastian  was  to  give  him 
news  of  it.  As  he  heard  nothing  from  him,  Michael 
Angelo  wrote  and  inquired,  and  received  the  follow- 
ing answer  in  the  middle  of  October :  — 

"  DEAREST  GOD-FATHER,"  —  writes  Sebastian,  —  "  Do 
not  be  astonished  that  I  only  now  answer  your  letter,  after 
so  long  a  time.  The  reason  is  this,  that  I  have  been  more 
than  once  in  the  palace  to  speak  with  our  master,  his  Ho- 
liness, and  have  yet  found  no  opportunity  of  speaking  with 
him  as  I  wished.  Lately,  however,  I  have  discussed  mat- 
ters with  him.  His  Holiness  was  very  gracious,  and  dis- 
missed all  who  were  present ;  so  that  I  was  alone  with  our 
master,  except  a  cameriere  on  whom  I  could  depend.  I 
represented  my  matter  to  him,  and  he  heard  me  very 
kindly.  I  placed  myself  and  you  in  every  way  at  the 
disposal  of  his  Holiness  :  he  had  only  to  command  us,  and 
to  communicate  to  us  the  design  which  the  pictures  should 
represent,  the  size,  and  all  the  rest.  His  Holiness  replied 
in  the  following  manner :  '  Bastiano,'  he  said  to  me,  '  Juan 
Batista  del  Aquila  has  told  me,  that,  in  the  hall  below, 
nothing  can  be  executed  on  the  right  side ;  for  the  vaulted 
ceiling  there  runs  down  the  wall  in  such  a  manner,  that 
two  compartments  rounded  off  above  are  formed,  extending 
Almost  to  the  middle  of  the  wall  on  which  the  pictures 
would  be  painted.  Then  come  the  doors  to  the  apartments 
of  Monsignor  dei  Medici,  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  cover 
any  entire  wall  with  one  single  composition.  In  each  arch, 
however,  a  separate  one  might  be  painted,  —  one  eighteen 
palms  broad,  the  other  twenty.  There  might  be  any  extent 
of  height ;  but  the  figures  would  then  appear  too  small  for 
so  great  a  space.  Besides,'  added  his  Holiness, '  the  hall 
is  too  accessible  to  everybody.' 


LETTER   OP   SEBASTIAN   DEL   PIOMBO.  415 

"  All  this  comes  from  Juan  del  Aquila  and  others,  who 
would  gladly  see  me  anywhere  but  in  the  palace.  But, 
god-father,  by  our  common  faith !  when  some  people  saw 
me  here  in  the  palace,  you  would  have  thought  they  were 
looking  at  the  incarnate  devil  himself,  as  if  I  came  to 
wring  all  their  necks  off.  Yet,  God  be  thanked !  I  have 
still  some  good  friends,  and  could  have  more  if  I  would ; 
and  some  fine  day  they  shall  find  it  out. 

"  Upon  this  our  master  said  further  to  me,  '  Bastiano, 
upon  my  conscience,  all  that  is  executed  below  dissatisfies 
me,  and  pleases  no  one  who  has  seen  it.  In  four  or  five 
days,  I  will  look  at  the  thing ;  and,  if  nothing  better  is  done 
than  has  been  begun,  I  will  put  a  stop  to  it.  I  will  have 
all  taken  down,  and  something  else  begun ;  and  you  shall 
have  the  whole  hall:  for  the  thing  shall  either  be  beautiful, 
or  I  will  have  the  hall  simply  painted  ovei'.'  *  I  answered, 
that  I  could  do  wonders  with  your  assistance ;  and  he  said, 
'  I  do  not  doubt  it ;  for  you  all  belong  to  his  school.'  And, 
by  my  faith !  his  Holiness  now  said,  '  Only  look  at  Ra- 
phael's works :  as  soon  as  he  saw  Michael  Angelo's  paint- 
ings, he  left  Perugino's  style,  and  endeavored  as  much  as 
possible  to  approach  closer  to  Michael  Angelo.  But  he  is 
indeed  terrific  (terribile)fi  as  you  yourself  see,  and  listens 
to  no  reason.'  I  said  that  your  terribleness  hurt  no  one, 
and  that  you  only  were  so,  because  you  had  before  you 
important  works,  and  so  forth :  the  rest  is  of  no  impor- 
tance. 

"  I  have  now  waited  the  four  days,  and  have  been  to 
the  palace,  to  inquire  whether  his  Holiness  had  seen  the 
works.  I  heard  that  He  had  certainly  done  so ;  but  that 
he  had  asserted  that  some  figures  just  begun,  and  some 
half  finished,  must  be  entirely  completed  before  he  could 
judge.  But  the  further  they  advance,  the  more  it  is  said 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXIII.  f  Ibid.,  Note  LXXIV. 


416  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

to  displease  him.      Still,  to  please  them,  he  will  wait  a 
fortnight  or  three  weeks,  till  the  figures  are  ready. 

"This  is  all  that  has  happened  since  I  wrote  last.  I 
cannot  send  the  size,  as  the  pope  has  not  yet  settled  any 
thing,  and  the  others  are  still  at  work.  Christ  keep  you 

safe! 

"  Your  godchild,  BASTIANO,  in  Rome.* 
"OCT.  15,  1512." 

This  Aquila,  to  whom  Sebastiano  imputes  such 
bad  influence,  was  the  pope's  chamberlain,  Giovan- 
batista  Branconio  d' Aquila,  for  whom  Raphael  built 
a  palace :  the  hall  in  which  Raphael's  pupils  were 
painting  was  perhaps  the  hall  of  Constantino ;  and 
the  hall,  the  walls  of  which  Michael  Angelo  de- 
manded for  Sebastian,  and  which  lies  a  story  higher, 
was  called  la  Sola  Borgia.^  The  pope,  who  would 
not  openly  comply  with  Michael  Angelo's  wishes, 
yet  did  not  wish  to  offend  him ;  but,  master  as  he 
was  in  doubtful  promises,  he  chose  the  often-em- 
ployed expedient  of  linking  the  most  unstable  con- 
ditions with  the  strongest  assurances,  and  postponing 
things  instead  of  coming  to  a  decision. 

Michael  Angelo  was  soon  obliged  to  return  to 
Rome.  Perhaps  he  did  so  in  order  still  to  carry  his 
point ;  but  the  state  of  the  pope  soon  allowed  nothing 
of  this  kind  to  be  thought  of.  It  is  true,  Julius 
wished  to  know  nothing  of  death.  He  carried  on 
his  political  plans,  as  if  dozens  of  years  were  yet 
before  him.  He  had  purchased  Siena  from  the  em- 
peror for  the  Duke  of  Urbino ;  that  is,  Siena  was 
an  old  imperial  fief,  and  Maximilian,  for  a  fixed 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXV.  f  Ibid.,  Note  LXXVI. 


DEATH   OF   JULIUS   II.  417 

sum,  gave  the  necessary  pretext  for  war.  Julius 
had,  besides,  the  Spaniards  in  pay  for  a  campaign 
against  Ferrara.  He  wished  to  have  the  Medici 
again  out  of  Florence,  because  they  behaved  too 
independently  there  ;  he  wished  to  appoint  another 
doge  in  Genoa:  and  all  in  the  spring  of  1513. 
And  yet  from  Christmas  he  had  been  confined  to 
his  bed.  But  there  are  natures  whose  energy  over- 
comes weakness  of  body,  and  forges  wax  into  steel. 
The  last  deeds  of  the  pope  show  him  as  such  a  man. 
In  the  midst  of  fever,  he  had  rushed  like  a  young 
soldier  into  the  winter  cold ;  the  people  of  Bologna 
were  amazed  when  he  galloped  through  the  streets 
firmly  seated  on  an  intractable  steed.  He  wished 
to  expel  the  French  from  Italy :  he  intended  to  get 
rid  of  the  barbarians  who  had  all  his  life  impeded 
his  plans,  much  as  he  had  needed  their  assistance. 
As  Italy's  deliverer  from  tyrants  at  home  and  abroad, 
he  seemed  to  himself  too  necessary  in  his  place,  for 
death  to  carry  him  away  while  he  was  yearning 
for  fresh  deeds.  On  the  21st  February,  1513,  how- 
ever, the  end  of  all  things  took  place.  The  pope 
was  this  time  really  dead ;  and  the  world  was  not 
again  disappointed. 

To  the  last  he  adhered  to  his  ideas  of  dominion. 
I  trace  in  his  character  a  resemblance  with  that  of 
Frederic  the  Great,  whose  old  age  also  manifested 
no  diminution  of  mind,  —  whose  thread  of  life,  like 
Julius's,  snapped  asunder  one  day,  because  the  one- 
half  of  man's  being  is  meted  out  for  limited  dura- 
bility only,  while  he  took  with  him  to  the  grave  a 
mind  full  of  bold  thouhts  for  the  liberation  of 


418  LIFE    OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Germany,  which  none  have  inherited  after  him 
The  more  Julius  ventured,  the  more  faithful  did 
fortune  seem  to  him,  and  the  more  vehement  did  he 
become.  Frederic  also  became  increasingly  violent 
with  increasing  years.  They  both  learned  more 
and  more,  that  action  is  the  only  way  of  promoting 
things,  and  that  quick,  lightning-like  proceeding  is 
the  only  way  of  acting ;  and,  lastly,  that  fortune  or 
fate,  or  however  we  may  call  the  power  upon  which 
the  earthly  issue  of  things  depends,  is  thus  made  an 
almost  subservient  force,  capable  of  being  called 
forth  and  considered  as  an  ally.  For  he  alone  can 
act  who  cherishes  a  presentiment  of  the  success  of 
his  designs ;  doubt  of  his  own  superiority  precedes 
misfortune. 

If  any  man  was  capable  of  understanding  Julius's 
mind,  it  was  Michael  Angelo.  Immediately  after 
the  death  of  the  pope,  whom  we  may  now  certainly 
call  his  old  friend,  he  resumed  his  work  on  the 
mausoleum. 

It  had  been  mentioned  in  Julius's  will.  The  heirs 
now  urged  for  its  completion.  Before  the  work 
was,  however,  continued,  a  new  plan  and  a  new 
contract  were  brought  about,  —  the  former  on  a 
reduced  scale,  the  latter  at  an  increased  cost,  —  in 
such  a  manner,  that,  to  speak  generally,  double  the 
sum  was  to  be  paid  for  half  the  work. 

Respecting  the  form,  which,  according  to  this 
second  agreement,  the  monument  was  to  receive,  we 
have  been  hitherto  in  doubt.  The  London  manu- 
scripts have  put  an  end  to  this.  There  is  among 
them  a  paper  of  Michael  Angelo' s,  which  can  be 


THE  MAUSOLEUM.  419 

nothing  else  than  a  description  of  the  monument 
according  to  this  its  first  remodelling.*  In  the 
simplest  manner,  it  is  represented  as  a  section  of 
the  former  in  its  breadth ;  so  that,  whilst  before  it 
was  to  stand  in  the  middle  of  St.  Peter's  Church, 
open  on  all  four  sides,  it  now  joined  the  wall  of  the 
church  with  one  of  the  two  narrower  sides,  which 
thus  became  the  main  facade,  and,  as  it  were,  jutted 
out  from  the  wall.  The  difference  between  this 
project  and  that  according  to  which  it  was  subse- 
quently completed,  as  it  is  to  be  seen  at  the  present 
day,  only  consists  in  this,  —  that  the  proportions  cor- 
responding to  the  original  design  were  more  colossal, 
and  the  whole  superstructure  must  have  been  less 
flat  against  the  wall.  An  abundance  of  bronze 
ornaments,  too,  were  designed  for  it,  which  were 
subsequently  omitted.  They  must  have  been  very 
considerable,  as  Michael  Angelo  intended  to  buy 
for  them  more  than  200  hundred-weight  of  metal. 
He  was  entirely  absorbed  in  this  work  from  the 
year  1513  to  the  end  of  1516.  He  had  the  blocks 
of  marble  conveyed  from  his  atelier,  near  the  Vati- 
can, to  Macello  dei  Corvi,  close  by  the  Capitol, 
where  there  were  many  sculptors'  workshops,  and 
where,  he  possessed  a  house  of  his  own,  which  he 
inhabited  till  his  death.  At  any  rate,  this  change  of 
residence  presented  this  advantage,  —  that  Michael 
Angelo  left  the  unhealthy  leonine  suburb  for  one  of 
the  healthiest  parts  of  the  city. 

I  imagine  that  at  this  time  he  was  especially  occu- 
pied with  the  Moses,  although  the  statue  remained  in 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXVI1. 


420  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

his  workshop  for  forty  years  after  this  period.  It  is 
as  if  this  figure  were  the  exemplification  of  all  the 
violent  passions  which  filled  flie  soul  of  the  pope, — 
the  portrayal  of  his  ideal  character  under  the  figure 
of  the  greatest,  mightiest  popular  leader  who  ever 
raised  a  nation  from  servitude  to  reliance  on  its  own 
strength. 

Whoever  has  once  seen  this  statue,  must  retain 
the  impression  of  it  for  ever.  There  is  in  it  a  gran- 
deur, a  self-consciousness,  a  feeling  as  if  the  thunder 
of  heaven  stood  at  the  man's  disposal ;  yet  he  brings 
himself  into  subjection  before  he  would  unchain  it, 
—  waiting  whether  the  foes  whom  he  intends  to 
annihilate  will  venture  to  attack  him. 

He  sits  there  as  if  on  the  point  of  starting  up, 
his  head  proudly  raised :  his  hand,  under  the  arm 
of  which  rest  the  tables  of  the  law,  is  thrust  in 
his  beard,  which  falls  in  heavy,  waving  locks  on  his 
breast ;  his  nostrils  are  wide  and  expanding ;  and 
his  mouth  looks  as  if  the  words  were  trembling 
on  his  lips.  Such  a  man  could  well  subdue  a  rebel- 
lious people ;  drawing  them  after  him,  like  a  mov- 
ing magnet,  through  the  wilderness,  and  through 
the  sea  itself. 

What  need  we  information,  letters,  suppositions, 
records,  respecting  Michael  Angelo,  when  we  possess 
such  a  work,  every  line  of  which  is  a  transcript  of 
his  mind  ? 

We  are  too  little  acquainted  with  Michael  Angelo' s 
works.  They  stand  in  unfavorable  places.  They 
are  not  accessible  to  all,  because  their  immense  size 
renders  casts  of  them  a  matter  of  difficulty ;  and, 


II 


THE   MOSES.  421 

from  general  ignorance  of  them,  prejudices  have 
been  formed  respecting  them.  The  Moses  is  the 
crown  of  modern  sculpture,  not  only  in  idea,  but 
also  with  regard  to  the  work,  which,  incomparable  in 
its  execution,  rises  to  a  delicacy  which  could  hardly 
be  carried  further.  What  shoulders  are  joined  to 
those  arms !  "What  a  countenance !  The  muscles 
of  the  brow  threateningly  contracted ;  a  glance,  as  if 
it  passed  over  an  entire  plain  full  of  people,  and 
ruled  them  ;  the  muscles  of  the  arm,  whose  ungov- 
ernable power  we  feel !.  Whom  did  Michael  Angelo 
chisel  in  this  form  ?  Himself  and  Julius  both  seem 
portrayed  in  it.  All  the  power  which  Michael 
Angelo  possessed,  and  which  the  world  did  not 
understand,  was  exhibited  in  those  limbs ;  and  the 
demon-like,  passionate  violence  of  the  pope  in  that 
countenance.  We  feel  as  Ulric  von  Hutten  said  of 
this  man  in  admiring  irony  :  he  wished  to  take 
heaven  by  force,  as  entrance  had  been  refused  him 
above.* 

While  at  work  on  this  figure,  he  must  also  have 
been  engaged  on  the  two  chained  youths,  at  that 
time  intended  for  the  mausoleum,  but  subsequently, 
when  the  proportions  were  diminished,  omitted  as 
too  colossal,  and  sent  to  France.  King  Francis  gave 
them  to  the  Constable  de  Montmorency,  who  placed 
them  as  an  ornament  outside  his  castle  in  Ecouen. 
From  thence  they  were  brought  by  Cardinal  Riche- 
lieu to  one  of  his  castles  at  Poitou ;  his  sister  subse- 
quently had  them  conveyed  to  Paris ;  in  1793  they 
were  publicly  sold  there,  and  bought  for  the  Museum 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXVIII 


422  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

of  the  Louvre,  in  which  they  are  to  be  seen  at  the 
present  day. 

It  is  one  of  these  two  statues  which  is  said  to  have 
been  intended  as  a  contrast  to  the  Moses ;  appar- 
ently as  though  the  admiration  of  this  work  were 
not  to  exhaust  all  that  is,  in  the  highest  sense, 
worthy  of  admiration  in  Michael  Angelo, — the  repre- 
sentation of  the  great,  the  overwhelming,  the  fear- 
ful, in  one  word,  del  terribile.  Perhaps  the  tender 
beauty  of  this  dying  youth  is  more  penetrating  than 
the  power  of  Moses. 

Personal  feeling  can  here  alone  decide.  When 
I  say  that  to  me  it  is  the  most  elevated  piece  of 
statuary  that  I  know,  I  do  so,  remembering  the  mas- 
terpieces of  ancient  art.  Man  is  always  limited.  It 
is  impossible,  in  the  most  comprehensive  life,  to  have 
had  every  thing  before  our  eyes,  and  to  have  con- 
templated that  which  we  have  seen,  in  the  best  and 
worthiest  state  of  feeling.  But  there  is  an  uncon- 
scious ruminating  over  what  we  have  met  with, 
with  a  conscious  enjoyment  of  the  contemplation ; 
and -what  remains,  as  the  final  result  of  this  involun- 
tary working  in  the  mind,  is  that  to  which  we  can 
alone  appeal  as  the  result  of  experience.  I  ask 
myself,  What  work  of  sculpture  first  comes  to  mind, 
if  I  am  to  name  the  best  ?  and  at  once  the  answer 
is  ready,  —  the  dying  youth  of  Michael  Angelo. 

In  innocence  of  natural  conception,  this  figure  can 
only  be  compared  with  the  best  Greek  works,  in 
which  there  is  also  no  trace  of  exhibiting  what  they 
were  capable  of  producing ;  but  the  simplest,  most 
suitable  expression  of  nature  is  apparent,  — just  as 


In.V      M 


THE   DYING   YOUTH.  423 

the  artist  felt  it,  and  endeavored  to  imitate  it  for  his 
own  delight  alone.  What  work  of  any  ancient  mas- 
ter do  we,  however,  know  or  possess,  which  touches 
us  so  nearly  as  this,  —  which  takes  hold  of  our  soul 
so  completely  as  this  exemplification  of  the  highest 
and  last  human  conflict  does,  in  a  being  just  develop- 
ing ?  The  last  moment,  between  life  and  immortal- 
ity, —  the  terror  at  once  of  departing  and  arriving, 
—  the  enfeebling  of  the  powerful  youthful  limbs, 
which,  like  an  empty  and  magnificent  coat  of  mail, 
are  cast  off  by  the  soul  as  she  rises,  and  which,  still 
losing  what  they  contained,  seem  nevertheless  com- 
pletely to  veil  it ! 

He  is  chained  to  the  pillar  by  a  band  running 
across  the  breast  below  the  shoulders ;  his  powers 
are  just  ebbing ;  the  band  sustains  him ;  he  almost 
hangs  in  it ;  one  shoulder  is  forced  up,  and  towards 
this  the  head  inclines  as  it  falls  backwards.  The 
hand  of  this  arm  is  placed  on  his  breast;  the  other 
is  raised  in  a  bent  position  behind  the  head,  in  such 
an  attitude  as  in  sleep  we  make  a  pillow  of  an  arm, 
and  it  is  fettered  at  the  wrist.  The  knees,  drawn 
closely  together,  have  no  more  firmness ;  no  muscle 
is  stretched ;  all  has  returned  to  that  repose  which 
ind'.cates  death. 

The  space  which  is  allotted  in  the  New  Museum  at 
Berlin  for  plaster-casts,  consists  of  contiguous  halls, 
which,  beginning  with  the  productions  of  Greek  art, 
lead  up  to  those  of  the  present  day.  If  we  pass 
from  the  midst  of  Greek  works  to  those  which  were 
executed  in  the  times  of  the  Roman  emperors  by  the 
descendants  of  those  earliest  generations  of  Greek 


424  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

artists,  we  cannot  resist  the  impression  of  coldness 
and  cool  elegance  which  has  taken  the  place  of  the 
heartiest  combination  of  nature  and  innocent  grace. 
Those  of  later  date  speculated  on  the  approval  of  the 
constrained  Roman  public;  the  Greeks  thought  of 
their  own  free  people.  The  Greek  works  breathe 
forth  a  happy,  self-contented  vigor ;  the  Roman,  the 
artificial  perfume  of  brilliant  virtuosoship.  There 
are  productions,  triumphant  solutions  of  difficult 
tasks ;  but  the  feeling  is  ever  wanting,  that  the  artist 
who  executed  them  yearned  to  satisfy  his  own  heart 
in  them.  His  statues  were  only  the  veiling  orna- 
ment of  the  lifeless  stone,  out  of  which  Roman 
society  was  built  in  the  days  of  imperial  rule. 

How  different  the  Greeks !  Passing  from  figure 
to  figure,  I  examine  the  festive  procession  on  the 
frieze  of  the  Parthenon:  the  galloping  horses, — 
they  seem  to  stream  along  like  the  verses  of  some 
glorious  poem !  the  youths  who  lead  the  oxen,  the 
maidens  with  the  vessels,  —  many  an  age  lies  be- 
tween that  day  and  this ;  but  I  imagine  myself  to 
have  lived  in  the  midst  of  the  people,  and  only  when 
I  come  to  the  Romans,  does  the  feeling  of  the  p"ast 
obtrude  itself  upon  me. 

This  difference  between  Greek  and  Roman  art  is 
repeated  in  modern  times.  We  look  at  the  first 
efforts  of  the  middle  ages :  awkward  beginnings, 
which  stand  in  similar  relation  to  the  perfect  art  of 
the  old  masters,  as  the  earliest  works  of  the  Greeks 
did  perhaps  to  those  of  the  Egyptians,  who  produced 
from  time  immemorial  independent  works  of  sculp- 
ture, the  finest  imitations  of  nature.  A  strange 


GREEK   AND   ROMAN   ART.  425 

mixture  of  a  peculiar  imitation  of  life,  and  conscious 
employment  of  the  models  presented  by  the  remains 
of  ancient  art,  meet  us  in  the  works  of  the  earliest 
Italians.  Increasingly  extensive  grew  the  renewed 
acquaintance  with  those  Roman  sculptures  which 
were  again  brought  to  light  from  the  depths  of  the 
earth,  —  sculptures  which  stand  sublimely,  like  a 
lost  creation,  above  that  which  they  could  produce 
from  their  own  knowledge;  but  at  the  same  time, 
struggling  with  the  habit  of  imitation,  appeared  an 
ever  fresh,  an  ever  more  successful  following  of 
nature.  We  see  Ghiberti  submit  more  readily  to 
the  ancients,  Donatello  more  reluctantly ;  at  length 
we  see  in  Michael  Angelo  the  reconcilement  of  both 
tendencies ;  and,  by  the  addition  of  his  own  power, 
there  burst  forth,  from  all  that  had  been  done  hith- 
erto, the  blossom  of  a  new  art,  surpassing  by  far  all 
previous  works. 

Like  the  masters  of  the  old  Greeks,  Michael 
Angelo  worked  as  a  member  of  a  grand  and  mighty 
people  for  their  ennobling.  With  his  heart  full  of 
yet  unbroken  pride  in  the  freedom  of  his  country, 
he  saw  himself  surrounded  by  men  who  thought 
as  he  did,  and  with  a  prince  at  his  side,  whose  motto 
was  the  restoration  of  liberty  to  the  whole  of  Italy. 

Just  as  truly  as  the  statue  of  Moses,  designed  for 
the  mausoleum  of  this  man,  expresses  his  will,  his 
power,  and  his  longing  desire,  so  truly  does  the 
figure  of  the  dying  youth  remain  no  mere  symbol. 
With  the  death  of  Julius  II.,  the  arts  perished.  No 
prince  succeeded  him  who  was  able  to  devise  tasks 
worthy  of  great  artists :  and  no  epoch  of  liberty 


426  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

broke  in  upon  any  land,  to  give  to  works  of  plastic 
art  that  final  lustre  of  completion,  and  that  grand 
transporting  purport,  which  can  thus  alone  be  be- 
stowed. 


During  the  three  years  of  continuous  work  at  the 
mausoleum,  Michael  Angelo  alternately  resided  at 
Rome  and  Florence,  although  he  had  released  him- 
self from  his  engagements  at  the  latter  place.  The 
twelve  apostles  for  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  had  been 
already,  in  1512,  distributed  among  a  number  of 
younger  sculptors,  who  completed  them  in  the  course 
of  the  next  ten  years.  There  was  no  further  men- 
tion of  the  colossal  statue  for  the  square  of  the  pal- 
ace. The  painting  in  the  hall  of  the  consiglio  shared 
a  similar  fate.  Soderini  was  away ;  the  consiglio 
abolished  ;  and  the  hall  of  their  former  dignity,  dis- 
mantled, was  degraded  intentionally  into  an  abode 
for  soldiers,  whose  pikes  against  the  walls  were  per- 
haps to  blame  for  the  disappearance  of  the  work 
which  Leonardo  had  just  completed. 

One  word  more  we  must  say  here  respecting  both 
these  famous  cartoons. 

It  is  certain  that  both  were  destroyed,  and  disap- 
peared, after  they  had  only  existed  for  a  short  series 
of  years  as  memorials  of  what  Florentine  art  had 
been  able  to  produce,  —  Leonardo's  work  in  the  hall 
of  the  popes,  Michael  Angelo's  cartoon  in  the  great 
hall  of  the  palace  of  the  Medici.  A  whole  succes- 
sion of  rising  artists  drew  from  them,  and  received 
their  first  impressions  from  their  lines.  One  of  these 


BANDINELLI.  427 

young  men  is  accused  by  Yasari  of  the  crime  of  hav- 
ing maliciously  cut  Michael  Angelo's  cartoon.  And 
certainly  the  act  is  said  to  have  been  committed  in 
the  year  1512,  in  those  days  of  disorder  when  no 
one  had  time  and  thoughts  left  for  works  of  art. 

Bandinelli  was  the  culprit's  name.  We  know  him 
from  Cellini's  biography,  in  which  sufficient  care  is 
taken  that  the  world  should  know  the  intolerable 
character  of  this  sculptor.  Vasari  judges  him 
scarcely  more  favorably.  Both,  however,  might  have 
been  the  reports  of  envious  companions  in  art.  Yet 
we  possess  a  long  series  of  Bandinelli's  own  letters ; 
and  these  are  sufficient  to  reveal  the  envious,  false, 
calumnious  spirit  of  the  man,  and  his  silly  vanity. 
In  addition  to  this,  we  have  his  tasteless  works.  One 
thing  alone  we  must  accord  to  him, —  and  that  is 
unwearied  industry ;  and  from  one  crime  we  must 
acquit  him,  whether  the  other  basenesses  be  true 
or  no,  —  he  cannot  have  cut  the  cartoon  of  Michael 
Angelo  in  the  year  1512. 

Vasari  certainly  relates  very  accurately  how  Ban- 
dinelli procured  the  key;  how,  as  an  adherent  of 
Leonardo's  party,  he  had  hated  and  envied  Michael 
Angelo,  and  what  the  city  said  after  the  deed  was 
done.  But  it  was  false.  Vasari  appears  despicably 
on  this  occasion.  In  the  first  edition  of  his  book,  we 
do  not  find  Bandinelli's  life.  In  Michael  Angelo's 
biography,  it  was  only  said  that  the  cartoon  had  been 
cut  in  the  year  1517,  when  the  Duke  Giuliano  was 
in  a  dying  state,  and  no  one  had  time  to  trouble 
himself  about  it ;  the  separate  pieces  had  been  lost. 
When  the  second  edition  of  the  book  appeared,  Ban- 


128  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL    A.NGELO. 

dinelli  had  meanwhile  died,  and  his  biography  was 
added  to  the  others.  And  now,  in  Band 'nielli's  life, 
we  find  the  accusation,  that  in  1512,  during  those 
days  of  commotion  in  the  hall  of  the  palace,  he 
crept  in,  and  cut  up  the  cartoon  ;  whilst,  in  Michael 
Angelo's  life,  Vasari's  old  statement  of  the  year 
1517  is  simply  repeated. 

Thus  there  is  a  contradiction  in  the  book  itself. 
So  strong,  however,  was  the  impression  of  Bandi- 
nelli's  insufferable  character,  that  the  accusation 
was  received  as  well-grounded,  and  what  might  be 
said  on  his  behalf  was  lost  sight  of.  Two  circum- 
stances absolve  Bandinelli.  In  the  first  place, 
Condivi  knows  nothing  of  it.  He  says  the  cartoon 
was  lost,  it  is  not  known  how.  Had  Bandinelli 
committed  the  deed,  Condivi  would  at  least  have 
intimated  it.  In  the  second  place,  however,  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini  places  the  means  at  our  disposal  for 
adducing  still  more  decided  proof. 

He  relates  how  he  had  seriously  resolved,  in  the 
year  1513,  to  remain  a  goldsmith;  how  he  after- 
wards worked  at  Siena,  Bologna,  and  Pisa;  and 
lastly,  having  returned  to  Florence,  how  he  studied 
from  Michael  Angelo's  and  Leonardo's  cartoons. 
This  must,  therefore,  necessarily  have  been  after 
1513.  Had  Bandinelli,  however,  committed  the 
deed  in  1517,  instead  of  1512,  Cellini  would  not 
have  been  the  man  to  leave  it  unmentioned ;  for  lie 
hated  Bandinelli  like  poison,  and  honored  Michael 
Angelo's  work  as  the  highest  he  had  ever  produced. 

There  is,  besides,  one  thing  more.  Immediately 
after  those  days  of  revolution,  Michael  Angelo  had 


THE  MEDICI   IN   FLORENCE.  429 

gone  to  Florence ;  and  he,  too,  had  Bandinelli  been 
the  guilty  one,  would  at  least  have  not  passed  over 
the  matter  in  complete  silence,  and  would  have 
spoken  a  word  to  Coiidivi  about  it. 

It  does  not  seem  that  at  that  period,  when  Michael 
Angelo  saw  for  the  first  time  how  the  Medici  had 
again  established  themselves  in  Florence,  he  sided 
politically  with  any  party.  It  might  be  said  that  he 
had  previously  been  absent,  and  circumstances  had 
not  required  it  afterwards.  No  one  could  do  better 
than  be  silent  for  the  moment,  and  yield.  But  he 
was  not  at  that  time  opposed  to  the  Medici.  That 
in  Rome  he  restrained,  as  he  expressly  says,  every 
indiscreet  word,  is  a  proof  of  this ;  but  it  is  still 
more  evidenced  by  his  open  connection  with  the 
powerful  family.  And,  indeed,  under  the  cardinal's 
rule,  these  people  behaved  so  well,  that  no  one  felt 
himself  obliged  in  conscience  to  meet  them  with 
hostility. 

They  appeared  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
Florentine  character.  Their  entrance  in  1512,  and 
the  position  which  was  at  that  time  given  them, 
appeared  only  as  the  result  of  the  urgent  demands 
of  Cordova,  which  permitted  no  evasion ;  the  coup 
d'etat  and  the  convoking  of  parliament  were  bold 
measures,  to  which  they  were  compelled  by  the  dis- 
union of  the  consiglio  grande.  What  followed  was 
the  work  of  the  free  citizens.  The  Spanish  troops 
carried  away  with  them,  it  is  true,  to  the  Romagna, 
five  hundred  prisoners,  men  and  women,  and  laid 
the  land  under  contribution,  —  a  fearful  band,  with 
Turks  and  all  possible  rabble  among  them.  They 


430  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

had  obtained  from  Florence  alone  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  ducats  in  ready  money,  apart  from 
what  Lucca  and  Siena  paid  to  buy  themselves  off. 
But  it  was  the  Medici  who  brought  about  their 
withdrawal,  while  the  Soderini  had  been  to  blame 
that  they  had  entered  the  country.  For  Cardinal 
Giovanni  had  only  obeyed  the  pope's  command  as 
legate ;  Giulio  dei  Medici  had  done  nothing  but  give 
good  counsel  to  the  Palleski  in  Florence ;  Giuliano 
served  in  the  army ;  and  Lorenzo,  Piero's  son,  for 
whom  the  city  had  truly  been  conquered,  had  taken 
no  part  at  all  in  events.  He  only  made  his  appear- 
ance when  every  thing  was  settled,  and  entered  the 
city  as  a  youth  who  knew  nothing,  and  had  helped 
to  nothing. 

The  first  act  of  the  Medici  was  to  pardon  the 
condemned  citizens.  Adherents  of  the  Soderini, 
who  were  in  the  utmost  alarm,  were  personally 
inquired  after,  quieted  with  assurances  of  esteem, 
or  taken  under  protection.  The  banishment  of  the 
Soderini  was  pronounced  in  the  mildest  form.  The 
gonfalonier  was  not  to  leave  Ragusa  for  five  years ; 
the  others  got  off  with  two  years.  The  safety  of  the 
State  was  the  one  point  in  question:  the  Medici 
thought  not  of  taking  revenge. 

At  the  same  time,  outward  splendor  was  displayed. 
Giuliano  and  Lorenzo  established  two  companies  of 
rich  young  men  for  the  object  of  public  amusement. 
Giuliano' s  company  was  called  La  Compagnia  del 
Diamante,  because  the  diamond  had  been  the  badge 
of  his  father  Lorenzo ;  while  La  Campagnia  del 
Broncone,  Lorenzo's  troop,  bore  a  branch,  the  sym- 


CONSPIRACY   IN   FLORENCE.  431 

bol  of  the  deceased  Piero.  Both  of  these  added 
splendor  to  the  carnival  of  the  year  1513.  Whilst 
Pope  Julius  lay  dying  in  Rome,  magnificent  festivi- 
ties distinguished  the  restoration  of  the  Medici  at 
Florence.  These  are  those  romantic  years  of  en- 
chantment, of  which  Yasari  speaks  so  gladly.  lie 
was  born  at  that  time ;  and,  at  a  later  period,  he  re- 
lates what  splendid  parts  Florentine  artists  played 
in  them. 

Behind  this  delicacy  and  reserve,  however,  there 
lurked  the  utmost  caution ;  and,  when  this  began  to 
be  suspected,  there  came  forth  from  under  the  velvet 
mantle  a  claw  with  sharp  talons,  which  knew  no 
consideration.  The  party  of  the  Palleski  began  to 
disperse,  after  the  Medici  were  at  length  re-instated 
in  power.  Under  the  Soderini,  it  had  been,  as  it 
were,  the  fashion  to  be  a  Palleski,  rather  out  of 
opposition  to  the  half-democratic  gonfalonier  than 
out  of  attachment  *o  the  vanished  authority  of  the 
family  that  had  been  for  almost  twenty  years  in 
exile.  Now  they  were  back  again,  and  Soderini 
was  away,  one  power  had  been  replaced  by  another : 
the  old  Arrabiati,  who  neither  wished  to  see  democ- 
racy nor  the  Medici  at  the  head  of  affairs,  but 
themselves  as  an  oligarchy,  began  secretly  to  excite 
the  public  mind.  The  Capponi,  the  Albrizzi,  and 
the  old  hereditary  enemies,  the  Pazzi,  re-instatod 
after  the  expulsion  of  Piero,  were  the  leaders  of  the 
opposition.  At  the  very  first,  they  had  endeavored 
to  prevent  the  convoking  of  the  parliament;  and 
now  the  universal  discontent  formed  itself  into  a 
conspiracy. 


432  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

This  was  discovered ;  and  now  followed  imprison- 
ments, torture,  executions,  and  banishments.  The 
Medici  showed  themselves  now  so  inexorable,  that 
one  of  the  Yalori,  a  family  with  whom  the  revolu- 
tion in  their  favor  had  mainly  originated,  was  sen- 
tenced to  death  and  to  imprisonment  for  life,  only 
because  he  had  refused  the  propositions  of  the  con- 
spirators, without  denouncing  them.  Among  those 
who  were  arrested,  was  Macchiavelli,  who,  having 
lost  his  official  employment  by  Soderini's  removal, 
belonged  to  the  malcontents.  Fortunately,  Cardinal 
Medici  was  soon  elected  pope.  They  now  felt  more 
secure,  and  treated  the  prisoners  with  more  clemency, 
until  an  amnesty  at  length  followed. 

The  conspiracy  occurred  in  the  last  days  of  Pope 
Julius ;  the  election  of  Cardinal  Medici  took  place  on 
the  llth  March.  He  was  unanimously  chosen ;  and 
he  who  urged  it  most  was  Cardinal  Soderini,  with 
whom  Medici  had  become  reconciled.  Immediately 
after  his  accession,  the  gonfalonier  was  recalled  from 
Ragusa  to  Rome,  and  received  in  the  most  friendly 
manner.  There  was  a  general  rejoicing  in  Rome, 
such  as  had  never  been  since  the  days  of  the  old  em- 
perors ;  and  no  less  so  in  Florence,  when  the  honor 
which  reflected  on  the  city  by  this  election  seemed 
to  have  obliterated  every  thing  which  weighed  on 
their  minds  against  the  Medici.  Unhappily  we  read 
that  the  covetous  commercial  nature  of  the  people 
had  the  greatest  share  in  this  feeling  of  content ;  for 
every  one  hoped  to  rise  by  means  of  the  pope,  and  to 
gain  money.  A  kind  of  servile  mania  suddenly 
swayed  all  minds ;  the  old  arms  of  the  city,  the  red 


LEO  x.  433 

crosses  denoting  liberty,  were  everywhere  torn  down, 
and  the  Medicaean  balls  placed  in  their  stead ;  in 
Rome,  half  Florence  crowded  to  the  Vatican,  and 
kissed  the  sacred  foot  of  the  pope.  Leo  expressed, 
rather  contemptuously,  that  he  had  only  met  two 
people  who  wished  well  to  the  city,  and  had  at  heart 
the  preservation  of  her  liberty, — the  one,  a  poor  devil 
known  as  a  public  fool ;  and  the  other,  Soderini  the 
gonfalonier,  who,  living  at  Rome  until  his  death, 
continued  to  bear  the  old  title. 

Freedom  seemed,  however,  indeed  to  have  become 
an  impossible  possession  to  the  Florentines.  For  the 
old  plans  which  the  Borgias  had  before  cherished 
were  immediately  taken  up  again  by  the  Medici.  In 
imagination,  they  divided  Italy  now  into  two  king- 
doms,— Naples,  which  Giuliano  was  to  have ;  and  the 
other  northern  half  of  the  peninsula,  with  its  capital, 
Florence,  as  Lorenzo's  portion.  Just  so  had  Alex- 
ander YI.  once  hoped  to  divide  the  land  among  his 
sons ;  and  Leo  now  trod  in  the  steps  of  this  prede- 
cessor, with  the  power  of  a  man  who  has  been  trained 
from  his  youth  up  for  his  great  part. 

The  new  master  was  little  like  the  departed  one. 
Leo  X.  was  a  man  of  taste  and  cultivation ;  he  loved 
clever  men,  and  delighted  in  extravagant  under- 
takings :  but  he  could  not  have  said,  like  Julius, 
this  can  be  done  by  Michael  Angelo  alone,  and  that 
Raphael  can  execute.  Music  was  his  passion ;  all 
sorts  of  follies  and  wit,  his  daily  pastime.  Cunning 
and  regardless  in  political  things,  he  gained  his  ends  ; 
but  his  successes  seem  pitiful  when  compared  with 
the  deeds  of  Julius.  Fat,  large  in  the  upper  part  of 

VOL.   I.  19  BB 


434  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

his  body,  and  with  immense  bloated  features,  his  legs 
were  weakly ;  his  weak,  short-sighted  eyes  were  frog- 
like  in  their  prominence ;  his  thick  lips  were  com- 
pressed like  two  fists.  How  different  the  profound, 
searching  look  of  Julius,  and  his  energetic  mouth, 
with  its  deep,  triangular  corners !  Raphael's  picture 
of  Leo  X.  is  nattering.  The  corpulence  of  his  entire 
frame  makes  him  appear  less  intellectual  on  coins  or 
medallions.  If  we  look  at  this  great  bloated  coun- 
tenance, and  imagine  the  pope  with  spectacle's  on  his 
nose,  singing  the  first  part  in  the  midst  of  flattering 
musicians,  or  coquetting  about  with  his  ring-glittering 
hands,  of  the  beauty  of  which  he  was  vain,  or  laugh- 
ing at  the  jests  of  his  company,  or  giving  audience  to 
some  brave,  far-travelled  German  nobleman,  who, 
after  having  kissed  his  foot,  in  rising  strikes  his 
nose,  —  he  becomes  almost  ridiculous ;  he  becomes 
even  loathsome,  if  we  read  of  his  sicknesses.  Ra- 
phael's mere  existence,  however,  makes  amends  for 
every  thing,  —  he  raises  the  pope  and  the  whole  of 
Rome  into  an  ideal  sphere. 

As  the  mind  of  Shakespeare  gilds  with  a  magic 
lustre  the  period  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  making  the 
most  insignificant  things  fresh  and  curious,  so  the 
presence  of  Raphael  invests  the  court  of  Leo  X. 
with  an  appearance  of  youthful  grace.  It  is  as  if  the 
otherwise  dark-flowing  waters  of  life  had  been  trans- 
formed into  nothing  but  sunny  fountains.  Raphael's 
portrait  of  the  pope,  even  if  we  consider  it  as  flattered, 
acquires  the  appearance  of  the  truest  reality ;  and  the 
whole  character  of  the  man,. taken  all  in  all,  has  in  it 
something  free,  independent,  and  even  magnificent. 


LEO  x.  435 

For  Papa  Lione  was  royally,  irresistibly  flattering  in 
his  condescension  to  those  of  lower  rank,  but  a  perfect 
diplomatist  towards  princes.  There  was  nothing  of 
cowardice  in  his  nature.  He  had  appeared  deliberate 
in  difficult  positions.  When  he  had  read  aloud  the 
votes  in  the  College  of  Cardinals,  and  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  himself  the  pope  chosen,  he  quietly  read 
on,  without  the  slightest  internal  emotion  being  per- 
ceptible in  his  voice.  He  knew  the  characters  of 
men ;  he  guided  and  used  them ;  and  his  magnificent 
way  of  representing  Rome  as  the  central  point  of  the 
civilized  world  proved  itself  so  successful,  that  he, 
who  has  done  but  little  for  the  plastic  arts,*  contrived 
to  transfer  to  himself  almost  entirely  Julius's  fame, 
and  to  appear  in  history  as  the  man  without  whose 
name  the  prince  of  modern  art  could  not  be  men- 
tioned. 

If  we  call  happiness  an  elevating  feeling  of  the 
present  with  the  prospect  of  a  future,  whose  multiplied 
advantages  present  an  endless  increase  of  desirable 
circumstances,  so  that  the  remembrance  of  the  transi- 
toriness  of  earthly  things,  and  the  disturbing  irony 
of  fate,  is  easily  driven  from  the  mind,  as  though  the 
mighty  rule  still  admitted  an  exception,  —  if  this  we 
call  happiness,  then  the  Medici  family  were  perfectly 
happy  at  the  time  that  Leo  X.  entered  Florence  in 
November,  1515.  He  had  given  Giuliano,  the  gon- 
falonier of  the  Church,  in  marriage  to  a  French 
princess.  Lorenzo  was  captain-general  of  the  Flor- 
entine Republic  (contrary  to  the  law,  which  allowed 
iio  native  to  attain  to  this  dignity ;  this,  however,  he 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXIX. 


436  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

little  cared  for) ;  he  commanded  the  city  with  a 
power  as  unlimited  as  if  he  were  its  duke.  Giulio 
dei  Medici  was  Archbishop  of  Florence,  cardinal 
and  legate  in  Bologna.  In  France,  Louis  XII.  had 
died.  His  preparations  for  the  reconquest  of  Loin- 
hardy  were  of  service  to  the  Duke  d'Angouleme, 
who  ascended  the  throne  in  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1515,  as  Francis  I.  He  appeared  with  an  army  in 
Italy;  set  an  example  of  brilliant,  victorious  valor 
in  the  battle  of  Marignano ;  and,  after  having  made 
France  once  more  master  of  Italian  policy,  trans- 
formed the  pope  and  the  Medici,  who  had  at  first 
marched  against  him  with  the  emperor,  into  his 
friends.  Now,  in  the  autumn  of  1515,  Francis  wished 
to  meet  the  pope  in  Bologna;  and,  on  his  journey 
thither,  Leo,  for  the  first  time  after  his  elevation, 
re-entered  his  native  city,  whose  citizens,  in  raptures 
at  his  arrival,  pulled  down  the  walls  to  build  a  new 
gate.  Leo's  entrance  into  Florence  set  the  seal  to 
the  transformation  of  their  love  of  liberty  into  servi- 
tude. 

It  was  at  that  time  that  Macchiavelli  dedicated  his 
book  on  princes,  II  Principe,  a  work  begun  two 
years  before,  to  the  young  Lorenzo;  an  act  which, 
still  less  in  those  days  than  in  the  present,  denoted 
mere  courtesy.  Macchiavelli  saw  in  this  prince, 
whose  appointment  as  Venetian  envoy  he  compares 
with  that  of  Caesar  Borgia,  the  future  master  and 
deliverer  of  Italy.  The  work,  objective  and  general 
as  it  seems,  is  at  bottom  only  calculated  for  Florence 
and  Lorenzo,  and — for  Macchiavelli  himself.  For 
ho  wished  to  represent  himself  as  an  efficient  man, 


LEO   X.    AT   FLORENCE.  437 

and  at  all  events  to  enter  again  into  active  service. 
In  this,  however,  lie  did  not  succeed.  The  Medici 
judged,  perhaps,  that  a  mind  so  accurately  acquainted 
with  the  means  and  ways  and  passions  of  princes 
would  be  too  critical  an  observer  in  immediate  con- 
tact with  them. 

Twelve  triumphal  arches  awaited  the  pope  in  the 
streets  of  Florence ;  there  were  temples,  columns, 
statues,  flags,  flowers,  tapestries, — the  city  appeared 
like  one  entire  decorated  palace ;  and  the  citizens, 
in  exquisitely  magnificent  attire,  seemed  like  a  band 
of  happy  children  welcoming  their  father. 

Granaccio  was  at  that  time  again  to  be  had ;  and 
lie  erected  one  of  the  triumphal  arches.  Paintings 
xnd  statues  were  placed  on  it ;  he  and  Aristotile  di 
San  Gallo  executing  this  work  to  the  astonishment 
of  all.  Giuliano  and  Antonio  di  San  Gallo  built  a 
temple  before  the  palace  of  the  Government ;  Rosso, 
Montelupo,  Puntormo,  —  nothing  but  names  of  a 
new  generation,  —  took  a  part.  The  most  magnifi- 
cent thing,  however,  was  a  wooden  facade  painted 
like  marble  in  front  of  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  erected 
by  Sansovino  from  the  designs  of  the  old  Lorenzo 
dei  Medici,  who  well  understood  architecture.  The 
glittering  train  of  the  pope,  in  whose  suit  was  Ra- 
phael, moved  along,  past  all  these  splendors.  This 
journey  afforded  the  pope  occasion  for  the  first  time 
to  demand  Michael  Angelo's  services. 

3. 

We  know  not  how  Michael  Angelo  presented  him- 
self at  the  Vatican  after  the  accession  of  his  new 


438  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

master.  He  had  nothing  more  to  do  there  :  Ra- 
phael, who  rose  from  dignity  to  dignity,  was  all- 
powerful  there.  He  had  at  length  succeeded  in 
making  his  way  even  into  the  Sistine  Chapel.  He 
worked  at  the  cartoons  for  the  tapestry  which  was 
to  cover  the  deepest  part  of  the  wall ;  works  which, 
from  their  intrinsic  grandeur,  simplicity,  and  com- 
mand of  every  form  of  body,  are  the  most  important 
which  he  has  produced.  He  here  approaches  near- 
est to  Michael  Angelo  ;  and,  if  his  intention  was  to 
rival  him  in  a  powerful  production,  he  succeeded. 
Whether  Leo,  however,  considering  Raphael  as  the 
superior  artist,  heaped  on  this  account  so  many  fa- 
vors upon  him,  or  whether  this  was  only  the  result 
of  that  second  art  which  Raphael  possessed  in  the 
highest  degree,  —  that  of  attracting  men  irresistibly, 
—  is  uncertain.  All  intimation  is  wanting.  Per- 
haps Leo's  and  Michael  Angelo's  natures  slightly 
repelled  each  other.  Still  Leo  was  pope,  and  Mi- 
chael Angelo  was  Michael  Angelo.  He  occupied 
a  position  which  made  commissions  appear  like  a 
necessity  to  him,  although  it  was  known  beforehand, 
that  he  would  refuse  them  when  they  came. 

The  first  of  his  letters,  which  shows  him  in  a  man- 
ner connected  with  his  old  patrons,  must  belong  to 
the  time  when  the  Medici  had  just  re-established 
themselves  in  Florence,  and  therefore  probably  to 
the  year  1512  or  1513.*  "Dearest  father,"  he 
writes,  "  Your  last  letter  shows  me  how  it  is  with 
you ;  before,  I  only  knew  it  partly.  We  must  take 
things  as  they  are ;  leaving  the  future  to  God,  and 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  I.XXX. 


MICHAEL  ANGELO'S   LETTER  TO   HIS   FATHER.        439 

acknowledging  where  we  have  erred.  The  misfor- 
tune is  eminently  caused  by  the  overweening  char- 
acter and  ingratitude  of  the  people,  —  for  I  have 
nowhere  seen  a  more  ungrateful  and  arrogant  people 
than  the  Florentines ;  and  retribution  will  be  the 
natural  consequence."  (Ungrateful,  for  instance, 
to  Soderini,  whose  fate,  as  these  words  show,  was 
deeply  felt  by  Michael  Angelo.)  "  As  regards  the 
sixty  ducats,  which  you,  as  you  tell  me,  are  to  pay, 
it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  right,  and  I  am  very 
sorry.  But  here,  too,  it  is  best  to  submit  quietly  to 
what  God  has  ordained.  I  will  address' a  few  lines 
to  Giuliano  dei  Medici,  which  I  will  enclose  here. 
Read  them,  and  convey  them  to  him  if  you  will  : 
perhaps  they  may  help ;  if  not,  try  to  sell  what  is 
our  own,  and  we  must  then  settle  elsewhere.  If  you 
observe  that  you  are  treated  worse  than  others,  pay 
on  no  condition.  Rather  let  what  you  have  be  taken 
from  you  by  force,  and  write  to  me.  If  others,  how- 
ever, do  not  fare  better  than  we,  bear  it,  and  place 
your  hopes  on  Heaven.  Take  care  of  your  health, 
and  see  whether  you  are  not  still  able  to  get  your 
daily  bread  ;  and,  with  God's  help,  get  through,  poor 
but  honest.  I  do  not  do  otherwise  ;  I  live  shabbily, 
and  care  not  for  outward  honor ;  a  thousand  cares 
and  works  burden  me ;  and  thus  I  have  now  gone  on 
for  fifteen  years,  without  having  a  happy,  quiet  hour. 
And  I  have  done  all  for  the  sake  of  supporting  you, 
which  you  have  never  acknowledged  or  believed. 
God  forgive  us  all !  I  am  ready  to  go  on  working 
as  long  as  I  can,  and  as  long  as  my  powers  hold 
out." 


440  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL    ANGELO. 

This  letter  calls  to  mind  the  distress  in  Florence 
in  the  early  time  of  Giuliano's  rule.  Scarcity  and 
taxes  oppressed  the  people.  We  here  see  how 
heavily  even  opulent  families  suffered  under  it. 
Some  other  letters  exhibit  Michael  Angelo  as  inter- 
ceder  for  his  brother  with  Filippo  Strozzi,  the  nearest 
and  most  powerful  relative  of  the  noble  family. 
Whether  the  letter  to  Giuliano  dei  Medici  had  any 
result,  and  in  what  way  the  affairs  of  his  family 
were  again  made  endurable,  we  know  not.  A  total 
change  must  have  occurred ;  for  there  is  soon  no 
further  mention  of  it ;  while,  in  the  summer  of  1515, 
fourteen  hundred  ducats  were  sent  from  Florence 
to  Rome  by  Buonarroto,  as  the  amount  of  all  the 
money  deposited  by  Michael  Angelo  with  the  hos- 
pital director,  and  which  he  now  urgently  required 
for  the  completion  of  the  mausoleum  for  Popj 
Julius.  He  wanted  to  buy  the  metal  for  the  bronz.) 
bas-reliefs.  He  must  have  worked  with  all  his 
energy ;  and  he  specifies,  as  an  especial  reason  why 
he  wished  to  be  quickly  ready,  that  the  new  pope 
would  shortly  claim  his  services.  This  was  in  June, 
1515.*  He  therefore  reckoned  surely  on  work  in 
Romo.  Of  what  kind  this  was,  we  do  not  find. 

That  he  stood  at  that  time  well  with'  the  Medici, 
is  shown  also  by  some  shorter  letters  to  Buonarroto, 
which  were  despatched  to  Florence  in  the  April  of 
the  same  year.  Michael  Angelo  had  just  been 
there ;  he  announces  his  safe  return,  and  begs  him 
as  quickly  as  he  can  to  get  five  ells  of  perpignan  as 
beautiful  as  is  possible,  and  to  send  them  to  Bo- 

«  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXI. 


HIS  WORK  AT  THE  MAUSOLEUM.       441 

menico  Buoninsegni,  in  the  palace  of  Cardinal 
Medici.  Domenico  was  the  cardinal's  master  of  the 
household.  The  material  arrived,  and  was  praised 
as  excellent.  The  little  incident  allows  us  to  sup- 
pose, that  Michael  Angelo,  even  if  not  in  the  Vatican, 
went  in  and  out  of  the  Medici  palace. 

By  degrees,  in  the  year  1515,  he  drew  out  all  his 
money  from  Florence  to  Rome.  He  warns  his  family 
to  retrench,  and  to  undertake  no  uncertain  specu- 
lations. The  director  of  the  hospital,  he  hears, 
has  complained  that  he  wanted  such  large  sums. 
The  director  is  mad ;  so  many  years  the  man  has 
had  the  money  from  him  without  interest,  and 
now,  when  he  desires  his  property,  he  disputes  it. 
Michael  Angelo's  letters  are  now  often  written  in 
evident  anger,  when  his  arrangements  at  home  are 
not  attended  to ;  but  they  are  always  full  of  care  for 
the  welfare  of  the  family.  At  last,  on  the  llth 
November,  he  writes,  at  the  close  of  a  letter,  "  The 
pope  has  left,  they  assert,  for  Florence  ; "  and,  at  this 
point,  letters  and  all  other  means  of  information 
break  off  for  a  whole  year.  The  natural  assump- 
tion is,  that  Michael  Angelo  during  this  time  was 
uninterruptedly  at  work  at  his  great  task.  And  it 
\vas  just  a  year  again  after  the  departure  of  the 
pope,  that  he  was  summoned  to  repair  to  the  Vati- 
can, and  to  produce  the  plan  for  the  erection  of  a 
marble  facade  to  the  Church  of  San  Lorenzo,  in 
Florence. 

Michael  Angelo  was  at  Carrara,  where,  under  his 
direction,  marble  was  being  broken  for  Julius's 
mausoleum,  when  two  communications  reached  him 

19* 


442  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

at  the  same  time,  —  the  one  from  Rome,  the  pope's 
summons ;  the  other  from  Florence,  that  his  father 
was  dangerously  ill. 

"  BUONARROTO,"  —  he  writes  to  his  brother,  on  the  23d 
November,  1516,  from  Carrara,*  —  "I  see  from  your  last 
letter  that  our  father  has  been  dangerously  ill,  and  that 
the  physician  has  now  declared  him  out  of  danger,  in  case 
no  relapse  occurs.  I  shall  therefore  now  not  come  to 
Florence,  as  I  am  too  deeply  absorbed  in  my  work ;  but,  if 
his  condition  should  become  at  all  worse,  I  should  like  at 
any  rate  to  see  him  before  his  death,  even  if  I  must  my- 
self die  with  him.  Still  I  hope  it  goes  well  with  him ;  and 
therefore  I  do  not  come.  If,  however,  a  relapse  should 
take  place,  —  from  which  may  God  preserve  both  him  and 
us !  —  take  care  that  he  has  the  last  consolations  and  the 
sacrament ;  and  let  him  say  whether  he  wishes  that  any 
thing  should  be  done  by  us  for  the  safety  of  his  soul. 
Take  care  also  that  nothing  is  lacking  in  his  nursing ;  for 
I  have  exerted  myself  for  him  alone,  in  order  that  to  the 
last  he  might  have  a  life  free  of  care.  Your  wife,  too, 
must  take  care  of  him,  and  attend  to  his  necessities ;  and 
all  of  you,  if  necessary,  mu>t  spare  no  expenses,  even  if 
it  should  cost  us  every  thing.  Give  me  speedy  tidings; 
for  I  am  in  great  anxiety." 

Enclosed  in  this  letter  was  another,  which  Borg- 
herini  was  to  forward  to  Rome  as  quickly  as  possible, 
as  it  contained  important  things.  On  the  5th  De- 
cember, Michael  Arigelo  himself  set  off  there,  learned 
the  pope's  views,  and  prepared  a  drawing,  upon 
which  he  was  commissioned  to  build  the  fagade. 

Before  the  London  papers  wore  accessible,  it  was 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXII. 


LEONARDO    DA   VINCI   IN   ROME.  443 

impossible  to  give  a  more  accurate  date  to  these 
incidents,  and  either  to  disentangle  Vasari's  indis- 
tinct statements,  or  to  reject  them  as  erroneous. 
Michael  Angelo  has  gathered  together  every  thing 
relating  to  the  building  of  the  facade,  in  a  record, 
the  greater  part  of  which  is  preserved.*  This  is 
therefore  especially  important,  because  a  charge 
against  his  character  can  by  this  means  be  set  aside 
as  groundless,  which  has  been  variously  repeated, 
and  has  of  late  been  again  revived  against  him. 

In  Vasari's  life  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  we  read, 
"  Irritation  and  ill-will  prevailed  between  Leonardo 
and  Michael  Angelo.  And  therefore,  when  Michael 
Angelo  was  called  by  the  pope  to  Rome,  to  the  com- 
petition of  artists  for  the  facade  of  San  Lorenzo,  he 
went  thither  from  Florence  with  the  permission  of 
Duke  Giuliano.  When  Leonardo  heard  this,  he  left 
Rome,  and  travelled  to  France." 

A  later  biographer  of  Leonardo's  has  formed  Va- 
sari's words  into  a  story,  the  refutation  of  which 
was  not  to  be  avoided.f  He  relates  that  Michael 
Angelo  had  scarcely  heard  in  Florence  that  Leonardo 
was  in  Rome,  than  he  at  once  set  out  thither  in 
order  to  oppose  the  influence  of  his  old  adversary. 
To  obtain  permission  for  this  journey  from  the  Duke 
Giuliano,  he  alleged  that  he  had  been  called  to  Rome 
by  the  pope  on  account  of  the  facade.  This  trouble, 
however  (that,  namely,  of  supplanting  Leonardo),  he 
had  been  spared  by  Leonardo  himself,  who,  as  soon 
as  he  heard  of  the  arrival  of  his  old  rival,  had  volun 
tarily  left  Rome. 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXIII.         t  /&W-,  Note  LXXXJV. 


444  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Although  all  this,  stated  to  us,  as  it  is,  as  a  settled 
matter,  may  be  set  aside  by  the  fact  that  a  misunder- 
standing of  the  Italian  language  can  be  proved  (for 
it  is  always  better  to  suppose  ignorance  rather  than 
intentional  perversion),  we  may  nevertheless  with 
certainty  maintain,  that  Vasari's  statement  also  con- 
tains an  impossibility.  We  possess  a  record  by  Leo- 
nardo's hand,  according  to  which,  after  having  not 
found  in  Rome  what  he  expected,  he  withdrew  from 
there  for  ever  at  the  end  of  January,  1516.  At  the 
end  of  November,  1516,  the  pope's  call  to  Michael 
Angelo  was  first  issued.  If  Leonardo  reckoned, 
however,  in  the  Florentine  manner,  so  that,  accord- 
ing to  Roman  calculation,  January,  1517,  might  be 
taken  as  the  time  of  his  departure,  this  date  accorded 
just  as  little  with  those  assertions.  For  then  the 
order  would  have  been  long  anterior  to  the  time  of 
his  departure,  and  Michael  Angelo  would  have  been 
again  in  Carrara. 

In  the  year  1513,  when  Giuliano  dei  Medici  came 
to  Rome  on  Leo's  coronation,  Leonardo  had  gone 
thither  with  him,  but  was  nevertheless  left  without 
larger  orders  from  the  pope  on  account  of  his  dilatory 
way  of  working.  It  was  not  Michael  Angelo,  but 
Raphael,  who  would  have  supplanted  him,  had  he 
actually  left  Rome  from  jealousy.  Yet  this,  too,  is 
only  empty  conjecture.  Why  do  such  always  befall 
such  characters  ?  In  nothing  do  we  believe  more 
readily  than  in  the  petty  passions  and  faults  of  great 
men ;  and  nothing  is  more  carefully  made  the  most  of 
than  the  intimations  of  biographers  to  this  end.  How 
much  there  may  be  of  a  similar  character  in  Vasari's 


THE  FACADE  OF  SAN  LORENZO.        445 

narratives,  where  we  have  no  idea  of  falsehood,  and 
shall  perhaps  never  be  enlightened !  For  there  are 
characters  among  his  contemporaries,  whom  he,  be- 
cause he  is  the  only  source  from  which  we  know 
them,  may  have  downright  annihilated. 

When  Michael  Angelo  arrived  in  Rome  in  Decem- 
ber, 1516,  he  found  assembled  there  a  number  of 
artists,  whose  designs,  like  his  own,  had  been  re- 
quired for  the  projected  fagade.  The  execution  of 
this  final  ornament  to  the  family  church  of  the 
Medici,  in  which  Brunellcschi  and  Donatello  had 
immortalized  themselves,  had  been  often  intended. 
Lorenzo  Medici  had  even  in  his  time  sketched  a 
design  for  it.  Ecclesiastical  buildings  were  often  at 
that  period  constructed  in  this  way,  —  that  the  fagade 
from  the  first  was  not  taken  into  account,  and  was 
reserved  for  subsequent  times  with  fresh  resources. 
Costly,  perfectly  finished  churches  thus  frequently 
present  the  strangest  appearance  in  Italian  cities. 
Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  is  covered  all  round  with  the 
most  splendid  marble  panelling ;  the  facade,  however, 
is  an  ugly  smooth  wall,  and  the  wall  work  is  roughly 
coated  with  plaster.  For  this  reason,  on  Leo's  en- 
trance, Sansovino's  wooden  fagade  was  the  most 
suitable  ornament  for  the  embellishment  of  the 
cathedral,  and  of  the  entire  city,  that  could  be 
devised. 

The  execution  of  the  fagade  of  San  Lorenzo  was  a 
mighty  task.  Had  Michael  Angelo  undertaken  it, 
a  return  to  Julius's  mausoleum  could  not  have  been 
thought  of  for  a  time.  He  represented  this  to  Leo, 
and  referred  to  his  promises  to  the  Rovere  family  ; 


446  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

he  was  bound  by  contract,  and  had  already  received 
money,  for  which  they  demanded  work.  The  pope 
replied  that  he  would  give  him  free  scope ;  he  would 
manage  with  the  cardinals  that  they  should  give  their 
assent.  Nothing  else  then  remained  but  to  agree ; 
the  only  thing  obtained  was  the  concession,  that 
Michael  Angelo,  while  occupied  with  the  new  com- 
mission, should  be  allowed  at  the  same  time  to  go  on 
working  at  the  mausoleum.  For  the  contracts  com- 
monly were  so  drawn  up,  that,  until  the  work  .was 
completed  to  which  they  referred,  no  other  might 
be  touched. 

Among  those  assembled  for  the  competition,  we 
find,  in  the  first  place,  Raphael,  who  had  been 
appointed  since  the  past  year  chief  architect  at  St. 
Peter's,  and  who  had  been  expressly  taken  by  the 
pope  to  Florence.  There  were  besides  the  two  San- 
sovini,  nephew  and  uncle,  the  Sangalli,  and  lastly 
Baccio  d'Agnolo.  Michael  Angelo' s  design  carried 
off  the  victory ;  it  is  still  extant,  as  well  as  some  of 
the  other  drawings,  only  that  as  regards  these  it  can- 
not be  decidedly  settled  to  which  masters  they  may 
be  separately  assigned.  The  pope  gave  him  the 
order,  but  attempted  so  to  twist  the  matter,  that 
Michael  Angelo,  as  director  of  all,  should  have  other 
masters  working  under  him,  and,  with  regard  to  the 
sculptures  especially,  should  furnish  models  for 
the  younger  artists.  Michael  Angelo  would  on  no 
condition  hear  of  this.  Either  he  would  work  alone, 
or  not  at  all ;  to  this  he  adhered,  and  he  carried 
his  point.  But  this  exclusiveness  excited  angry 
feelings,  and  was  resented  on  many  sides.  On  the 


THE  FAgADE  OP  SAN  LORENZO.        447 

81st  December,  he  was  already  back  at  Carrara.  On 
the  8th  January,  1517,  he  received  there  one  thou- 
sand ducats  for  the  commencement  of  the  work: 
the  gonfalonier  was  obliged  to  send  it  after  him  by 
an  express  messenger,  because  Michael  Angelo,  who 
had  applied  to  him  in  Florence  for  the  money,  and 
was  to  have  waited  in  the  ante-chamber,  had  set  out 
without  further  ceremony. 

The  period  which  followed  was  occupied  in  direct- 
ing the  breaking  of  the  marble  in  the  mountain. 

The  new  work  to  which  Michael  Angelo  had  been 
promoted  by  Leo  X.'s  order,  required  not  only  a 
sculptor  and  architect,  but  an  engineer,  and,  more- 
over, a  man  who  understood  how  to  command  others. 
To  cover  the  facade  of  a  church  like  that  of  San 
Lorenzo  with  sculptures,  was  a  task,  in  comparison 
with  which  even  the  mausoleum  of  Julius  assumed 
a  more  humble  appearance.  Besides  this,  Michael 
Angelo  would  throughout  allow  no  one  to  assist  him. 
He  passed  the  spring  and  summer  of  1517  in  the 
mountains.  He  worked  at  Carrara  as  well  as  Pietra 
Santa  and  Seravezza,  in  which  places  he  opened 
quarries  discovered  by  himself.*  In  August  he 
returned  to  Florence,  to  have  a  model  of  the  fagade 
made  at  the  pope's  desire.  Baccio  d'Agnolo  prepared 
the  architectural  part  in  wood ;  Michael  Angelo 
manufactured  the  figures  for  it  in  wax.  In  the 
meanwhile  he  fell  ill.  At  length  he  sent  the  whole 
thing  by  his  servant  to  Rome,  whither  he  was  then 
himself  summoned  by  the  pope's  express  command. 
The  more  accurate  conditions  of  the  order  were  now 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXV. 


448  LIFE   OF   MiCHAEL   ANGELO. 

for  the  first  time  agreed  upon.  Michael  Angelo 
obtained  permission  to  continue  the  works  for  the 
mausoleum  at  the  same  time.  To  render  this  feasible, 
he  had  the  marble  intended  for  it  conveyed  to  Flor- 
ence ;  and  he  received  the  promise,  —  not,  however, 
indeed  subsequently  kept,  —  that  the  costs  of  trans- 
port, including  those  to  Rome,  were  to  be  sustained 
by  the  pope  as  entrance  duties. 

4. 

Michael  Angelo  remained  in  Rome  a  great  part  ol 
the  winter  of  1517  to  1518,  in  order  to  break  up  his 
house  there,  and  to  effect  his  removal  to  Florence. 
This  sojourn  there,  during  which  there  can  be  as 
little  mention  of  the  ungracious  feeling  of  the  pope 
towards  him  as  on  former  occasions,  dispels  the  con- 
jectures which  Yasari's  evidence  once  induced  me  to 
take  for  granted,  respecting  the  hostile  relation  in 
which  Leo  X.  and  Raphael  stood  towards  Michael 
Angelo. 

The  two  great  artists  did  not  stand  in  each  other's 
way.  Each  had  his  own  sphere  of  action.  They 
had  both  produced  works  too  mighty  to  be  mistaken. 
Their  hostility  can  alone  have  rested  in  the  conduct 
of  their  followers  towards  each  other.  What  has  not 
been  related  and  believed,  even  in  our  own  days, 
respecting  Goethe's  relation  to  Schiller  ?  and,  at 
length,  after  deep  examination  and  careful  weighing 
of  every  expression  of  the  two,  how  pure  do  they 
seem  in  their  feelings  towards  each  other !  There  is 
a  false  deification  of  great  men ;  but  equally  false 
is  it  to  judge  them  too  much  by  the  ordinary  stand- 


RAPHAEL.  449 

ard,  and  to  consider  that  hostility  which  appears 
perhaps  natural  to  talent  alone,  as  possible  to  na- 
tures which  are  too  richly  gifted  with  their  own 
possessions  to  be  able  to  envy  the  richest  around 
them. 

Without  a  rival  in  Rome,  surrounded  by  a  court 
of  aspiring  and  fellow-working  artists,  Raphael  dis- 
played immense  diligence.  He  built  at  St.  Peter's ; 
he  painted  at  the  Vatican ;  he  directed  the  excava 
tions,  and  devoted  himself  to  this  task  with  the  great- 
est zeal.  He  was  not  satisfied,  that  every  antique 
marble  in  Rome  should,  under  penalty,  be  shown  to 
him  before  it  could  be  disposed  of:  through  the 
whole  of  Italy,  as  far  as  Germany,  he  had  his  men, 
who  made  drawings  for  him  of  the  ancient  works, 
either  existing  or  discovered.  That  alone  which 
Raphael  did  as  a  secondary  matter  would  completely 
have  engrossed  the  thoughts  of  other  men.  To  him, 
however,  it  seems  to  have  been  like  a  diversion. 
From  morning  to  evening,  his  days  must  have  been  a 
whirl  of  business,  work,  and  visits,  which  he  received 
or  paid  :  it  was  never  repose,  but  always  forwards  ; 
and,  in  spite  of  this  desultoriness,  there  lay  deep 
within  his  heart  the  power  of  absorbing  himself 
entirely  in  his  works,  and  of  conceiving  things  as 
calmly  and  purely  as  if  he  had  sat  in  his  cell  like  a 
monk,  and  labored. 

That  Bibbiena,  who  had  once  so  severely  used 
the  poor  improvisatore  Cardiere,  and  had  subse- 
quently followed  the  Medici  into  exile,  and  who,  at 
the  court  of  Urbino,  had  been  the  merry  follow, 
making  everybody  pleasant,  was  now  cardinal.  He 


450  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

is  known,  in  the  history  of  literature,  as  the  author 
of  the  earliest  printed  Italian  comedy.  He  had  des- 
tined his  niece  Maria  to  be  the  wife  of  Raphael. 
There  are  some  letters  of  Bembo,  the  pope's  private 
secretary,  to  him,  in  which  Raphael  is  mentioned ; 
and  which,  although  they  scarcely  say  so,  still  show 
how  completely  he  lived  in  these  highest  circles. 
"The  pope"  —  concludes  a  letter  of  the  3d  April, 
1516  — "  is  well ;  to-morrow  he  will  probably  go 
hunting  to  Palo  for  three  or  four  days.  I,  Navigero, 
Count  Castiglione,  and  Raphael,  intend  to  go  to- 
morrow to  Tivoli,  where  I  have  not  been  for  the  last 
seven  and  twenty  years."  On  the  19th  April,  he 
mentions  the  arrival  of  the  ducal  train  from  Urbino : 
"  Yesterday  I  was  with  the  duchess,  to  whom  I  pay 
my  respects  as  often  as  I  can.  She  presents  her 
compliments  to  you,  and  Madonna  Emilia  also. 
Signor  Unico  is  always  to  be  found  there  as  a  con- 
stant admirer.  The  old  passion  still  continues,  now 
three  lustrums  and  a  half  old,  as  he  himself  con- 
fesses. This  time,  however,  he  is  more  full  of  hope 
than  ever :  the  duchess  has  asked  him  to  improvise 
before  her ;  and  he  thinks  on  this  occasion  he  can 
touch  her  stony  heart.  Raphael  —  who  sends  his 
respects  to  you  —  has  produced  such  an  excellent 
portrait  of  our  Tebaldeo,  that  the  reflection  in  a 
mirror  could  not  have  been  more  like.  I  have  never 
seen  siich  a  likeness  in  a  picture.  The  portraits  of 
Count  Castiglione,  and  of  our  blessed  duke,  appear, 
on  the  contrary,  as  if  they  had  been  clone  by 
Raphael's  pupils,  both  as  regards  the  likeness  and  in 
comparison  with  that  of  Tebaldeo.  I  plainly  envy 


RAPHAEL.  451 

him,  and  purpose  some  day  to  have  him  paint  me. 
Just  as  I  had  written  so  far,  Raphael  himself  came  : 
he  must  have  had  a  presentiment  that  there  was 
mention  of  him  in  this  letter  ;  and  he  begged  me  to 
say  that  you  might  let  him  have  the  sketches  for  the 
other  paintings,  which  are  to  be  executed  in  your 
apartment ;  that  those  upon  which  you  had  already 
decided  would  be  ready  .this  week.  Truly,  it  is  no 
falsehood,  at  this  moment  came  also  Count  Castigli- 
one.  I  am  to  tell  you  from  him,  that,  for  the  sake 
of  not  interrupting  his  good  old  custom,  he  will  re- 
main this  summer  in  Rome.". 

The  painted  apartment,  of  which  mention  is  made, 
seems  to  be  Cardinal  Bibbiena's  bath-room  in  the 
Vatican.  Raphael  was  at  that  time  thirty-three 
years  old.  He  had  grown  stronger  and  fuller.  He 
had  his  own  palace  ;  and,  when  he  went  to  the  Vati- 
can, Vasari  says  that  fifty  painters  formed  his  suite. 
His  amiability,  however,  was  so  great,  that  all  envy 
and  all  ebullitions  of  jealousy  among  the  painters 
were  crushed. 

None  of  his  works  is  so  thoroughly  characteristic 
of  the  times  as  one,  which,  as  their  freest,  most 
charming  production,  bears  in  it  even  now,  when 
destroyed  and  painted  over,  the  atmosphere  of  that 
Roman  life  to  which  Raphael  at  that  time  gave  him- 
self up.  The  greater  part  of  it  he  did  not  even 
himself  paint,  but  only  furnished  the  sketches  for 
it.  But  this,  too,  belongs  to  his  character,  that  he 
made  others  work  ;  and,  with  a  few  master-touches, 
stamped  as  his  own  what  they  had  done  at  his  direc- 
tion. 


452  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

In  Trastevere  (on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Tiber) 
lay  the  summer-house  of  the  pope's  banker,  Agostmo 
Chigi,  now  called  the  Farnesina,  because  in  later 
years  it  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Farneso 
family.  It  is  hidden  in  the  midst  of  the  gardens 
that  lie  along  the  river,  close  by  the  other  bank  of 
which  the  numerous  houses  of  the  city  lie.  Cross- 
ing over,  one  is  carried  from  the  quiet  copses  to  the 
noisy  streets.  Centuries  ago,  it  was  just  the  same  as 
at  the  present  day. 

The  house  was  built  by  Baldassare  Peruzzi,  a 
native  of  Siena,  —  a  place  which,  even  at  the  present 
day,  richly  adorned  with  the  works  of  this  master, 
lays  claim  with  Florence  to  the  fame  of  having  been 
the  parent  of  many  able  artists.  Peruzzi  worked 
under  the  Borgias  in  Rome,  and  for  Pope  Julius  in 
Ostia,  when  he  was  still  cardinal.  After  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  latter,  he  was  employed  by  Bramante  in 
the  building  of  the  Vatican  palace.  He  suited 
thoroughly  the  fresh,  productive,  busy  life  in  Rome  ; 
he  painted  facades  of  houses,  pictures  for  churches 
and  private  persons ;  and  he  exhibits  in  his  style, 
like  that  of  Bramante  and  San  Gallo,  a  cheerful, 
peculiar  character,  in  which  there  is  some  imitation 
of  the  antique.  His  paintings  place  him  in  Raphael's 
school,  yet  they  preserve  a  noble  simplicity  belonging 
to  the  master  himself.  He  is  a  man  standing  by 
himself. 

Pcruzzi's  most  beautiful  building  is  the  Farnesina. 
Vasari  says  justly,  that  it  seems  not  formed  by  ma- 
sonry, but  born  out  of  the  ground ;  so  complete  does 
it  stand  there  in  its  charming  solitariness.  At  the 


THE   FARNESINA.  453 

present  day  it  is  forsaken  :  its  open  halls  are  walled 
up ;  the  paintings  on  the  outer  walls  are  faded  or 
fallen  away  with  the  mortar  ;  and,  in  the  badly  tend- 
ed garden,  which  is  entered  by  a  rusty  iron  door,  we 
see  the  old  fountains  scarcely  moistened  by  the  scanty 
waters,  and  the  bare  pedestals  statueless.  The  broad 
entrance  hall,  too,  the  roof  of  which  Raphael  painted, 
is  closed  up  ;  walls  have  been  raised  between  the 
pillars,  and  windows  rudely  inserted  in  the  arches 
above.  But  by  degrees,  as  we  become  absorbed  in 
the  paintings,  the  feeling  of  transitoriness  vanishes.* 

The  ceiling,  like  that  of  the  Sistine,  is  a  smooth 
cylindrical  vault,  joining  the  walls  in  circular  arches. 
Raphael  had  studied  from  Michael  Angelo.  He,  too, 
took  the  dome  as  the  blue  light  atmosphere,  in  which 
he  built  a  new  architectural  structure.  But  he 
raised  it  from  wreaths  of  flowers.  Upon  each  cir- 
cular arch  he  'painted  a  pointed  arch  formed  of 
garlands  ;  and  all  the  points  converging  together, 
he  united  by  a  wreath,  which,  from  the  dome  being 
like  that  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  long  and  narrow, 
formed  in  the  centre  a  long  quadrangular  space. 
This  he  divided  across,  and  stretched  over  the  two 
oblong  quadrangular  spaces  two  tapestries,  on  which 
we  see  the  principal  paintings,  while  the  rest  inside 
the  triangle,  formed  by  the  touching  of  the  pointed 
arches,  is  painted  in  so  perspective  a  manner,  that 
the  figures,  seen  between  the  garlands,  seem  hover- 
ing in  the  air. 

The  subject  of  all  this  painting  is  the  story  of 
Cupid  and  Psyche,  the  well-known  charming  legend 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXVI. 


454  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

of  antiquity.  Psyche  is  the  daughter  of  a  royal  pair, 
who  are  dazzled  with  the  beauty  of  their  child, — 
a  beauty  which  ranks  beyond  that  of  Venus  herself, 
and  on  this  account  calls  forth  the  anger  of  the 
goddess.  Every  one  has  read  how  it  conies  to  such 
a  point,  that  the  poor  child,  left  on  the  edge  of  a 
rock,  awaits  its  death ;  how  gentle  zephyrs  bore  it 
down ;  how  Psyche  was  led  into  a  magic  palace,  and 
became  the  spouse  of  Cupid ;  how  her  sisters  seduce 
her  to  examine  her  consort  secretly  with  a  lamp, 
when  he  is  veiled  in  the  darkness  of  night ;  how 
Cupid  flees ;  how  she  seeks  him  full  of  despair,  and 
after  the  most  terrible  tests  is  united  with  him  anew. 
Endless  are  the  pictures  that  the  narrative  seems  to 
contain.  Raphael  had  only  space  for  a  small  num- 
ber. How  did  he  set  to  work  ? 

It  seems  as  if  he  had  exhibited  nothing  at  all  of 
that  which  first  of  all  obtrudes  itself.  The  pride  of  the 
parents,  their  despair ;  Psyche  left  disconsolate,  then 
waited  on  in  the  palace  by  invisible  hands ;  then  Cu- 
pid listening,  then  wandering  about  in  tears,  from 
one  test  to  another,  —  there  is  nothing  of  all  this. 
Raphael  felt  that  the  story  had  three  principal  char- 
acters, —  the  angry  Venus,  the  innocent  and  loving 
Psyche,  and  Cupid  ;  and  that  in  these  three  the 
course  of  the  story  was  concentrated.  Venus  must 
be  pacified ;  Psyche  must  suffer  for  Cupid ;  Cupid  at 
length  must  be  again  united  with  her.  So  wo  see 
Venus  first,  sitting  on  a  cloud,  and  pointing  to  some- 
thing that  is  going  on  below.  She  shows  her  son 
the  infatuated  people,  who,  carried  away  with  Psy- 
che's beauty,  bring  offerings  to  her  as  to  a  divinity, 


RAPHAEL'S  PAINTINGS  IN  THE  FAENESINA.      455 

while  Yenus's  own  altars  are  neglected.  Cupid, 
standing  near  her,  looks  boldly  down  where  her 
finger  directs  his  glance.  He  seems  like  a  youth 
of  fifteen ;  his  entire  right  fist  has  seized  an  arrow, 
just  as  one  grasps  a  lance,  as  if  he  would  hurl  it 
down  like  a  spear  to  crush  those  who  have  offended 
his  mother.  We  feel  he  has  understood  her  thought, 
and  promises  to  execute  vengeance. 

Raphael  has  changed  the  legend,  as  it  were,  into 
a  drama.  He  here  gives  the  first  scene.  We  know 
what  has  happened  ;  we  expect  what  follows. 

The  second  scene  represents  a  moment,  which  is 
entirely  wanting  in  the  narrative,  —  Cupid  showing 
Psyche  in  the  distance  to  the  Three  Graces.  The 
goddesses  sit  before  him  on  masses  of  clouds.  The 
first,  the  foremost,  has  turned  her  back  to  us,  and 
looks  down  sideways.  Her  face,  appearing  in  profile, 
is  concealed  as  far  as  the  eyes  by  her  shoulder. 
The  second  looks  up  to  Cupid,  who  is  pointing  down 
from  above  to  Psyche,  who  is  again  supposed  invisi- 
ble in  the  depths  below.  She  seems  rather  to  listen 
to  Cupid  than  to  look  down  like  the  first.  She  has 
placed  one  leg  over  the  other,  and  her  right  hand 
rests  on  her  knee ;  her  plaited  hair  is  fastened  in  a 
knot  in  front  below  her  throat,  and  falls  down  on 
her  breast  in  fair  locks.  The  third,  rather  more 
elevated  than  the  two  others,  is  the  most  charming. 
Her  head  is  seen  at  three  quarters ;  it  is  filled  with 
the  bold  beauty  of  an  innocent  nature.  Cupid  uses 
his  right  hand  to  point  below  ;  with  the  left  he  is 
speaking :  that  is,  its  fingers  are  placed  in  such  a 
manner  that  we  at  once  perceive  tho  gestures  by 


456  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

which  he  endeavors  to  give  emphasis  to  his  words. 
He  seems  to  say,  Look,  how  beautiful  she  is  !  does 
it  not  seem  even  to  you  natural  that  I  should  make 
Psyche  my  beloved  one,  instead  of  destroying  her  ? 
And  all  three  agreed  with  him. 

Between  this  and  the  third  scene,  the  point  of  the 
story  apparently  has  taken  place.  Psyche  has  be- 
come the  bride  of  Cupid ;  the  sisters  have  seduced 
her-  by  night  to  steal  upon  him  with  a  lamp  ;  he  has 
escaped ;  wounded  by  the  glowing  spark,  tortured  by 
the  pain  of  the  wound  and  by  his  passion  for  his  lost 
loved  one,  he  lies  in.  his  mother's  palace.  A  gull, 
however,  dives  down  into  the  sea  where  Venus  dwells, 
and  betrays  to  her  what  has  happened.  Inflamed  with 
anger,  that  Cupid,  instead  of  having  hurled  her  foe 
into  destruction,  should  have  been  himself  fascinated 
by  her  beauty,  and  firmly  resolved  to  consent  neither 
now  nor  ever  to  the  union  of  the  two,  she  rushes  to 
her  palace  (furious  somewhat  like  an  old  princess 
of  high  rank  who  has  heard  that  her  son  intends  to 
marry  a  peasant  girl),  vents  a  flood  of  abuse  and 
threatenings  upon  Cupid,  and  hurries  away  to  seek 
Psyche,  to  express  her  anger  to  her  herself.  She  is 
met  on  her  way  by  Juno  and  Ceres.  What  is  the 
matter  with  her  ?  they  ask.  Where  is  she  going  ? 
Why  is  she  so  angry  ?  She  represents  the  matter 
to  them,  and  demands  their  help,  at  first  only  in 
discovering  Psyche.  She  is  sarcastically  begged, 
however,  by  the  two  goddesses,  to  remember  her  own 
adventures,  and  to  let  her  son  do  as  he  likes. 

This  is  the  third  scene.  The  attitude  of  Juno  is 
splendid  ;  a  red  cloth  encircles  her  head,  and  lightly 


RAPHAEL'S  PAINTINGS  IN  THE  FARNESINA.      457 

covers  her  hair.  Ceres,  with  her  body  turned  from 
Venus,  has  bent  her  head  round  towards  her  ;  over 
her  the  golden  drapery  reaches  to  her  neck,  and 
golden  ears  like  a  wreath  are  in  her  hair.  She  is 
speaking  to  Venus  at  the  same  time  as  Juno,  and 
her  hands  enforce  what  she  is  saying.  Venus  stands 
before  them.  A  garment  shot  with  red  and  gold 
flutters  around  her  like  a  long  strip  of  stuff,  which 
she  secures  by  her  arms. 

Ridiculed  by  the  goddesses,  and  refused  her  re- 
quest, she  now  hastens  to  Olympus  to  bring  it  before 
Jupiter  himself. 

The  fourth  picture  exhibits  her  journey  through 
the  air.  She  stands  in  a  golden  carriage,  holding 
with  her  left  hand  a  garment  shot  with  dark  gray 
and  red,  which  floats  around  her,  while  her  right 
hand  grasps  the  threads  by  which  a  pair  of  doves 
are  drawing  up  the  carriage.  She  is  a  full,  power- 
ful, but  not  a  voluptuous  woman.  How  changed, 
however,  do  we  see  her  in  the  following  scene !  As 
a  poor  innocent  girl  whom  every  one  wishes  to 
wrong,  she  stands  before  Jupiter.  Her  shoulders  a 
little  drawn  up,  her  knees  pressed  together,  her 
arms  drawn  closely  to  her,  and  only  the  two  hands 
timidly  parted  below,  her  head  leaning  on  one  si.l •>, 
—  it  is  as  if  we  saw  the  personification  of  the  shy, 
flattering  request  made  to  the  Almighty  Power. 
Jupiter,  with  his  flames  in  his  arm,  listens  benefi- 
cently to  the  goddess ;  looking  partly  upon  her, 
partly  meditatingly  into  the  air,  and  reflecting  how 
the  matter  may  best  be  treated.  Just  like  a  lord  in 
command,  who,  drawn  into  a  family  matter,  proin- 

20 


458  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

ises  to  do  his  part  to  prevent  the  dreaded  misalli- 
ance. 

We  see  the  result  in  the  next  scene,  —  Mercury 
floating  downwards  to  proclaim  the  universal  law, 
by  which  every  mortal  is  bound,  on  pain  of  punish- 
ment, to  seize  the  fugitive  princess,  and,  if  found,  to 
deliver  her  up.  With  outspread  arms,  the  god 
hovers  downwards ;  his  mantle,  gold  and  brown,  is 
carried  above  him  by  the  wind  in  beautiful  folds. 
"We  see  the  plunge  of  the  figure  down  through  the 
air ;  he  raises  his  left  hand  with  outspread  fingers  as 
a  messenger ;  in  his  right  hand  he  holds  a  tube ; 
the  winged  helmet  which  he  wears  makes  a  shadow 
fall  on  his  face  as  if  he  was  just  floating  below  the 
sun. 

In  the  seventh  picture,  we  see  Psyche  for  the  first 
time.  She  has  wandered  about ;  she  has  at  length 
voluntarily  surrendered  herself  to  the  cruel  Venus, 
and  has  suffered  the  most  fearful  mistreatment. 
Impossible  things  are  commanded  her  by  the  god- 
dess ;  but  the  animals  help  her :  the  ants  make  her 
a  heap  of  corn,  sorting  it  out  of  different  kinds  of 
grain  accumulated  together;  the  swallow  fetches 
her  a  tuft  from  the  coat  of  the  golden  ram ;  and, 
lastly,  the  tower,  from  which  she  is  to  throw  her- 
self down,  —  an  order  which  appears  to  her  perfectly 
impracticable,  —  begins  to  speak,  and  gives  her  good 
advice  how  she  can  bring  back  from  the  lower 
regions  the  box  containing  a  particle  of  Proserpina's 
beauty. 

The  following  scene  exhibits  her  return  from  the 
dark  caverns  of  the  lower  world.  Again  has  Ra- 


PAINTINGS  IN  THE  FAIINESINA.      459 


phael  created  a  new  episode  to  the  legend  ;  for  wo 
read  nothing  of  Pysche  being  brought  back  by  genii 
from  the  depths  of  the  earth  to  the  palace  of  Venus. 
One  of  the  little  cupids,  who  presses  her  under  the 
shoulders  to  carry  her  up,  is  among  the  most  charm- 
ing of  Raphael's  figures  of  children  that  I  know,  — 
dark  bold  eyes,  and  a  heavenly  defiance  in  the  little 
mouth.  .Psyche,  scarcely  covered  with  a  light  green 
garment,  seems  quite  powerless.  She  looks  down 
with  a  quiet,  happy  expression  ;  she  holds  the  vessel 
high  above  her  with  her  left  hand,  one  of  the  winged 
children  supporting  her  elbow,  that  she  should  not 
weary  ;  the  other  arm  she  has  laid  on  the  back  of 
the  little  genius,  who  presses  under  it  with  his 
shoulder. 

She  now  again  meets  with  Venus  :  kneeling,  her 
hand  placed  on  her  breast,  she  looks  up  sorrowfully 
at  her,  and  delivers  her  Proserpina's  box.  Over- 
head flutter  the  doves  of  the  goddess,  who  holds 
both  arms  upraised  ;  not  merely  from  astonishment, 
it  seems,  but  also  as  if  it  were  a  delight  to  her,  even 
now,  to  torment  Psyche  by  not  accepting  the  vessel. 

Cupid,  however,  in  the  meanwhile,  tormented  by 
longing,  has  now  also  set  out  for  the  father  of  the 
gods  ;  and,  complaining  of  his  mother's  severity, 
begs  for  mercy  for  himself  and  his  beloved  one. 
This  scene  is  one  of  the  most  magnificent,  and  is 
justly  famed.  Jupiter  takes  the  good  boy,  kisses 
him  on  his  cheek,  and  comforts  him.  Cupid  looks 
at  the  old  king  of  heaven  and  earth  with  glad  assu- 
rance :  Jupiter's  snow-white  hair  and  beard  blend 
beautifully  with  the  blooming  check.  He  is  sitting 


460  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

with  his  legs  crossed  ;  violet-gray  drapery  lies  across 
his  knees ;  behind  him  is  the  eagle,  with  its  beak 
full  of  lightning.  Cupid's  hand,  with  the  bow  in 
it,  rests  on  Jupiter's  lap ;  the  other,  with  an  arrow 
resting  perpendicularly  between  the  fingers,  hangs 
down  by  his  side.  He  stands  in  profile :  the  front 
wing,  which  we  quite  overlook,  lies  in  shadow ;  the 
other,  the  point  and  upper  back  part  of  which  we 
see  behind,  shines  quite  brightly. 

Lastly,  we  see  Mercury  bearing  Psyche  to  Olym- 
pus. Her  arms  are  crossed  on  her  breast,  her  eyes 
turned  upwards ;  she  smiles,  as  if  she  were  listening 
to  the  words  of  Mercury,  who  tells  her  in  their 
flight  many  things  of  the  palace  of  the  gods,  the 
tops  of  which  are  seen  in  perspective  above  their 
heads.  He  points  above  with  the  caduceus ;  we 
only,  however,  see  his  hand  Avith  the  handle  of  the 
wand  in  it.  Again  the  brown  and  gold  mantle 
floats  around  him ;  and  the  light  shines  sharply 
down  on  the  silver  tips  of  his  wings,  so  that  a  shadow 
falls  over  his  face.  The  feathers  of  his  helmet  are 
golden  ;  his  fluttering  locks  are  fair ;  Psyche's  hair, 
however,  which  appears  likewise  very  fair,  is  wound 
round  her  head  in  a  soft  knot ;  and  the  locks  that 
have  disengaged  themselves  float  upwards,  as  if  the 
whirling  atmosphere  carried  them  both  aloft. 

The  great  pictures,  which  occupy  side  by  side  the 
centre  of  the  dome,  are  the  representation  of  Psyche 
in  the  circle  of  the  gods,  and  her  nuptials :  both 
compositions  rich  in  figures ;  the  latter  the  most 
beautiful,  where  the  gods  and  goddesses  are  all  seen 
gathered  for  the  wedding  feast  round  the  golden 


RAPHAEL'S  PAINTINGS  IN  THE  FAENESINA.      4G1 

table,  which  rests  on  soft  violet  clouds.  If  any 
thing  presents  a  mirror  of  the  age  in  which  these 
works  originated,  it  is  these  paintings.  They  ex- 
press all  the  heathenish  pomp  of  the  life  of  that 
period,  the  close  of  that  luxurious  revival  in  Rome 
of  the  spirit  of  the  old  Greeks  and  Romans,  which 
after  this  time  gradually  fell  again  into  decay. 

I  have  thus  accurately  described  the  series  of 
paintings,  because  it  is  the  least  known,  and  because 
it  makes  us  admire  Raphael's  talent  in  the  choice 
of  the  moment  in  which  in  reality  the  turn  of  the 
story  lies.  We  gain,  moreover,  another  result.  As 
Homer  sang  not  in  the  Iliad  the  conquest  of  Troy, 
but  the  anger  of  Achilles,  so  Raphael  painted  not 
the  sufferings  of  Psyche,  but  the  anger  of  Venus. 
And,  if  this  is  a  settled  point,  it  becomes  almost  a 
necessity  to  conceive  his  famous  wall-painting-  in  the 
adjacent  room,  known  under  the  name  Galatea,  not 
as  a  representation  of  this  nymph,  but  as  the  expe- 
dition of  Venus  over  the  ocean,  just  as  it  is  described 
by  Apuleius  at  the  beginning  of  the  legend  of  Psy- 
che. This  picture  is  the  opening  one  of  the  series, 
and  belongs  as  necessarily  to  it  as  do  the  last  great 
paintings  in  the  centre  of  the  ceiling,  which  form  its 
conclusion.  And  thus  we  understand  why  the  for- 
mer representation  was  painted  by  Raphael  in  his 
earlier  years,  and  the  succeeding  one,  which  had 
been  long  promised  and  always  deferred,  was  added 
at  a  later  period.* 

One  thing  more  determined  me  thus  to  leave 
Michael  Angelo  for  a  while,  and  to  enlarge  here 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXVII. 


462  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

fully  on  a  work  of  Raphael.  None  other  bears  wit- 
ness, to  such  an  extent,  to  the  happy  tone  of  feeling 
of  the  period.  Chigi's  garden-house  was  the  scene 
of  banquets  at  which  the  pope  was  present ;  at  the 
close  of  which,  the  golden  dishes,  from  which  they 
had  eaten,  were  thrown  into  the  Tiber, — dishes  for 
which  perhaps  even  Raphael  had  furnished  designs. 
Chigi,  to  whose  care  the  jewels  of  the  papal  crown 
had  been  confided,  who  was  the  patron  of  all  artists, 
whose  house  was  sung  of  by  poets,  had  risen  from  a 
Sienese  merchant  to  be  one  of  the  first  Roman 
nobles.  In  calling  to  mind  that  period,  our  thoughts 
are  too  full  of  its  internal  corruption.  But,  for 
Raphael's  sake,  we  must  judge  differently.  We 
know  not  what  Raphael  thought,  and  how  he  acted. 
The  evidence  transmitted  to  us  furnishes  externals 
alone.  Still  it  cannot  be  denied,  that,  in  the  midst 
of  Leo's  society,  he  created  all  those  magnificent 
works,  the  greatness  and  purity  of  which  still  appears 
before  us  in  its  freshest  splendor  ;  and,  although  the 
sources  of  his  art  lay  alone  in  his  heart,  no  one  will 
assume  that  he  could  possibly  escape  the  influence 
of  that  to  which  he  was  daily  habituated.  What, 
however,  was  it  which  made  Roman  society  under 
Julius  and  Leo  so  rich  in  mental  fruit? 

There  are  always  three  powers  that  rule  the 
world,  —  money,  mind,  and  authority.  These  are 
hostile  to  each  other.  If  their  influence,  however, 
upon  the  destiny  of  a  people  stands  in  such  relation 
to  each  other  that  none  outvies  the  other,  then 
the  prosperity  of  a  people  displays  itself.  They 
might  also  be  named  energy,  genius,  and  birth ;  or 


LIFE   IN   ROME   UNDER  LEO.  463 

citizenship,  science,  and  nobility.  The  three  char- 
acteristics are  always  the  same  by  which  the  destiny 
of  man  is  raised  ;  he  is  cither  made  rich,  or  invested 
with  superior  powers  of  mind,  or  given  a  superior 
position  by  birth.  Wherever  one  of  these  three 
titles  has  more  weight  than  another,  the  free  devel' 
opment  of  a  people  suffers,  because  it  has  lost  its 
true  point  of  gravity. 

As  perhaps  in  England  at  the  present  day,  01 
formerly  in  Greece,  so  in  Italy  at  the  beginning  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  the  influence  of  these  three 
powers  was  maintained  in  the  most  beautiful  pro- 
portion. Raphael  was  a  painter  ;  but  he  could  have 
become  a  cardinal.  Never  has  it  been  so  easy  at 
any  time  for  a  person  of  importance  to  rise  to  any 
position,  as  at  that  period  in  Rome.  The  multiform 
ecclesiastical  state,  free  from  family  life,  formed  the 
passage  to  all  attainable  things.  There  was  an 
active  circulation  of  all  human  powers.  There  was 
nothing  of  that  foreseen  course  which  marks  careers 
at  the  present  day.  Any  transition  was  possible. 
With  little  effort  the  past  could  be  cancelled ;  noth- 
ing, not  even  the  most  fearful  crimes,  endangered  a 
man  for  long :  so  completely  was  the  moment  filled 
with  the  bustle  of  the  present,  that  no  one  lingered 
over  the  melody  of  the  preceding  day.  Men  were 
striving  forwards.  As  in  a  race  the  garments  fly, 
so  every  man  showed  himself  now  unveiled,  and  now 
again  in  the  most  splendid  folds ;  and,  while  every 
one  was  acquainted  with  life,  he  learned  to  defend 
himself  against  the  dangers  which  it  brought  with  it. 
The  concealment  of  the  true  character,  which  with 


LIFE    OF    MICHAEL    AXGELO. 


our  cold  slothfulness  is  easily  effected  for  a  lifetime, 
was  'then  impossible,  or  was  only  achieved  by  the 
cleverest.  Men  perceived  more  plainly  the  tlireat- 
ening  danger,  and  avoided  it ;  choosing  the  safer 
path  with  fearless  boldness. 

When  in  the  present  day  we  witness  or  hear  of 
the  objectionable  things  going  on  in  Paris  and  Lon- 
don, we  still  do  not  doubt  of  the  advantage  of  being 
schooled  there  for  life ;  and  we  should  never  suppose 
of  him  who  has  grown  up  there,  that  he  had  shared 
the  moral  disorder  in  the  midst  of  which  he  had 
moved,  however  closely  he  had  come  in  contact 
with  it. 

Such  was  the  education  which  Raphael  received 
in  Rome.  His  works  are  the  creations  of  a  man  to 
whom  nothing  is  strange,  to  whom  nothing  placed  a 
barrier ;  who  felt  himself  perfectly  in  his  element ; 
who  can  walk,  wrestle,  ride,  swim,  or  even  fly,  as 
the  hour  requires.  Tiro  Rome  alone  of  Leo  X.  was 
able  to  bring  this  out  of  him,  and  give  it  to  him. 
Michael  Angelo,  on  the  contrary,  whose  path  was 
more  solitary,  only  possessed  that  which  quiet  and 
solitude  can  mature  in  a  great  mind. 

5. 

Michael  Angelo  also  worked  again  as  a  painter 
during  the  three  months  of  his  residence  in  Rome, 
in  the  winter  of  1517  and  1518.  He  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  inducing  Julius  II.  at  that  time  to  give 
employment  to  Sebastian  del  Piombo.  The  London 
papers  show  us  how  he  succeeded,  in  the  year  1515, 
in  procuring  work  for  his  protegS  from  another  quar- 


SEBASTIAN'S  SCOURGING  OF  CHRIST.          465 

ter.  In  those  transmissions  of  money  from  Florence 
to  Rome,  he  mentions  Francesco  Borgherini,  a  Flor- 
entine banker  settled  in  Rome,  through  whom  the 
money  might  be  paid.  Michael  Angelo  calls  him 
u  a  really  excellent  man,  unequalled  among  the  Flor- 
entines in  Rome."  For  this  man  he  had  at  that 
time  to  complete  a  painting.  He  does  not  designate 
it  accurately  in  his  letter :  but  as  the  chapel  in  San 
Pietro  in  Montorio,  where  Sebastian  had  painted  the 
Scourging  of  Christ,  belonged  to  the  Borgherini ;  as 
Michael  Angelo  had  painted  nothing  else  about  that 
time ;  and  as  it  is  known  that  Sebastian's  work  at 
this  period  sprang  from  a  cartoon  of  Michael  An- 
gelo's,  —  there  is  no  doubt,  to  my  mind,  what  work 
is  intended  in  the  letters.  Sebastian  painted  the 
Scourging  of  Christ  on  the  semi-circular  wall  of 
the  niche  which  forms  the  chapel.  He  executed  the 
painting  in  oil :  the  colors  have  become  much  darker 
from  time  ;  otherwise  it  has  suffered  little,  and  is  a 
splendid  monument  of  the  painting  of  his  day. 

That  Michael  Angelo  not  only  made  the  sketch, 
but  drew  the  outline  of  the  figures  on  the  wall,  1 
think  is  plainly  to  be  perceived.  Bound  to  a  pillar, 
with  his  head  bent  down,  the  Redeemer  writhes 
beneath  the  blows  of  his  tormentors ;  but  we  almost 
see  only  the  effort  to  writhe,  —  the  bound  limbs  are 
not  able  actually  to  effect  the  movement.  The  lively 
Venetian  coloring,  however,  sets  off  the  drawing  so 
much,  that  the  greater  part  of  the  picture  seems 
to  have  been  done  by  Sebastian.  Above,  in  the  vault 
of  the  altar-niche,  there  is  an  Ascension  of  Christ, 
likewise  by  Michael  Angelo,  —  more  insignificant  as 

20*  DD 


466  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

regards  the  painting,  but  very  forcible  as  a  compo- 
sition ;  and  a  work,  it  seems  to  me,  which  Raphael, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  had  in  his  thoughts 
when  he  painted  his  own. 

The  novelty  of  the  painting,  the  charm  of  the 
chiaroscuro,  the  depth  and  warmth  of  the  colors,  ex- 
cited a  sensation  in  Rome,  and  gave  Sebastian  from 
henceforth  a  position  of  importance,  which  was  still 
increased  by  other  works,  for  which  Michael  Angelo 
frequently  furnished  the  sketch.  Among  them  we 
may  here  mention  the  Christ  taken  down  from  the 
cross,  in  the  arms  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  with 
Mary  by  his  side,  —  a  composition  colossal  in  form, 
and  executed  in  splendidly  powerful  touches,  rank- 
ing among  the  most  valuable  possessions  of  the  Ber- 
lin Museum.  It  is  here  especially  well  placed,  as  a 
number  of  insignificant  works,  which  in  many  gal- 
leries are  without  reason  marked  with  his  name, 
have  given  Sebastian  the  appearance  of  a  moderate 
artist,  to  whom,  without  further  ceremony,  this  or 
that  may  be  assigned.  We  only  require  to  see  his 
undoubted  works  to  esteem  him  justly  ;  the  portrait 
of  Admiral  Doria,  in  the  Doria  palace  in  Rome,  is 
the  representation  of  a  man  such  as  Titian  perhaps 
could  not  have  produced,  so  powerful  is  the  draw 
ing,  and  so  manly  and  strong  the  heroic  expression 
of  the  character  in  this  picture. 

A  new  commission  was  now  given  to  Sebastian  del 
Piombo,  through  Michael  Angelo's  instrumentality. 
Cardinal  Medici  ordered  of  him  the  Raising  of  Laza- 
rus from  the  Dead.  Michael  Angelo  drew  the  car- 
toon. We  do  not  find  it  especially  mentioned  when 


MICHAEL   ANGELO    AT   CARRARA.  467 

he  was  engaged  in  this  work ;  but,  as  the  time 
thoroughly  coincides,  and  there  appears  nothing  else 
which  could  have  employed  him  through  the  winter 
in  Rome,  we  may  speak  here  with  some  certainty. 
Besides,  he  certainly  did  not  only  draw  the  figure  of 
Lazarus,  —  a  separate  sketch  of  which  is  accidentally 
preserved,  —  but  he  designed  the  entire  composition, 
which  is  completely  conceived  and  arranged  in  his 
style.  On  the  6th  February,  1538,  he  was  again  in 
Florence ;  he  received  eight  hundred  ducats,  and 
proceeded  on  the  25th  to  Carrara,  where,  under  his 
direction,  the  work  was  to  be  carried  on. 

Michael  Angelo  was  at  home  at  Carrara.  He 
knew  the  mountains  accurately,  and  the  people  of 
Carrara  knew  him.  Topolino,  a  stone-mason  and 
sculptor  besides,  was  his  good  friend  there.  No  one 
had  ordered  such  great  masses  of  marble  from  Car- 
rara as  Michael  Angelo  ;  none  had  been  so  careful 
that  the  transmissions  should  correspond  with  the 
order.  The  reason  why  he  relied  so  little  upon 
others  in  this  was,  that  he  was  very  exact  in  his 
expenditure,  and  would  not  allow  himself  to  be 
deceived.  In  a  letter  of  the  year  1515,  he  complains 
of  something  of  the  sort :  "  Give  the  enclosed  letter 
to  Michele,"  he  writes  to  Buonarroto  from  Rome.* 
"  I  know  very  well  that  he  is  an  insolent  fool ;  but 
I  must  apply  to  him  because  I  want  marble,  and  I 
know  not  how  to  obtain  it  otherwise.  I  do  not  wish 
to  go  to  Carrara,  because  it  is  impossible.  I  can 
send  no  one  there  who  understands  it;  for  they 
would  either  be  cheated  themselves,  or  they  would 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXVIIf. 


468  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

themselves  cheat,  like  Bernardino,  the  shabby  fellow 
who  defrauded  me  here  of  three  hundred  ducats, 
and  afterwards  went  through  Rome  complaining  of 
me,  as  I  have  heard.  Avoid  him  like  fire,  and  don't 
let  him  come  into  the  house."  Such  stories  may 
often  have  occurred.  The  Italians  allow  so  mucl' 
deception,  vociferation,  and  passion  in  their  ordinary 
business,  that  a  Northerner  becomes  only  slowl) 
accustomed  to  it.  Michael  Angelo,  too,  opposec 
this  mode  of  proceeding.  He  was  honesty  itself  i» 
all  his  relations,  and  only  insisted  that  the  condi- 
tions upon  which  he  had  entered  upon  any  matter 
should  be  strictly  adhered  to.  For  this  reason  hu 
unwillingly  assented  to  intricate  contracts;  he  pre- 
ferred to  undertake  his  task  by  the  lump  for  a  defin- 
ite sum..  In  payments  he  set  down  his  expenditure 
to  a  farthing.  When  he  was  at  variance  with  his 
brothers,  it  was  because  these,  either  directly  or 
through  his  father,  endeavored  to  induce  him  into 
vague  speculations ;  and,  when  he  fell  out  with  his 
employers,  the  reason  lay  in  their  interpreting  the 
contract  otherwise  than  had  been  intended.  Michael 
Angelo  insisted  throughout  on  his  rights ;  and  great 
as  the  sums  were  which  he  gave  away,  and  uncon- 
cernedly as  he  dispensed  them,  his  resistance  was 
obstinate  if  the  smallest  thing  was  unjustly  withheld 
from  him. 

When  he  arrived  at  Carrara,  at  the  end  of  Febru- 
ary, 1518,  he  found  the  work  agreed  upon  not  car- 
ried out  according  to  contract.  He  fell  into  dispute 
with  the  ship-owners,  to  whom  the  transport  of  the 
blocks  had  been  intrusted.  He  went  at  once  to 


THE   QUARRIES   AT   SERAVEZZA.  469 

Genoa,  and  hired  there  a  number  of  barks.  They 
arrived ;  but  their  crew  were  bribed  by  the  people 
of  Carrara,  and  matters  came  to  such  a  pitch  that 
Michael  Angelo's  house  was  attacked,  and  he  was 
held  besieged  there.*  They  declared  that  they 
would  not  let  him  go  away,  if  he  did  not  yield.  He 
now  applied  to  Florence  to  send  him  vessels  from 
Pisa ;  he  went  there  himself  to  press  the  matter, 
and  at  last  gained  his  will.  He  wished,  however, 
now  to  show  the  people  of  Carrara  that  they  were  to 
be  done  without :  he  therefore  turned  to  Seravezza 
and  Pietrasanta,  —  places  situated  on  the  Floren- 
tine -territory,  —  and  began  to  open  marble  quarries 
there. 

This  undertaking  was  a  favorite  idea  of  the  pope's. 
In  the  year  1515,  by  a  general  decree  of  the  Sera- 
vezzans,  all  the  land  required  for  the  intended  works 
was  given  to  the  Florentine  people.  In  1517, 
Michael  Angelo  had  instituted  investigations  as  to 
the  nature  of  the  stone,  and  had  convinced  himself 
of  its  availability.  The  main  difficulty  now  consisted 
in  the  construction  of  a  passable  road  from  the 
mountains  to  the  sea-shore,  —  an  expensive  under- 
taking, as  not  only  the  steepness  of  the  mountain, 
but  also  the  marshy  character  of  the  plain,  had  to  be 
overcome.  The  pope  endeavored  to  moderate  the 
immense  expenses  by  inducing  the  guild  of  wool- 
weavers  to  share  the  undertaking  for  the  sake  of  a 
new  coating  of  marble  for  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore. 
Matters,  however,  proceeded  in  such  a  manner  that 
Michael  Angelo  undertook  the  whole  outlay  at  his 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  LXXXIX. 


470  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

own  rjsk ;  and,  while  contracting  with  the  pope  and 
the  guild  of  wool-weavers,  he  began  the  road  and  the 
stone  quarries  at  Seravezza  as  his  own  affair. 

We  have  Michael  Angelo's  assertion  that  this  was 
the  case.  Perhaps  the  various,  though  not  accurately 
designated  hinderances,  which  his  letters  tell  us 
opposed  the  final  arrangement  of  the  respective  con- 
tracts, had  their  cause  in  a  difference  of  view  among 
the  concluding  parties.  For  months  Michael  Angelo 
urged  for  an  arrangement,  without  obtaining  his 
object.  At  length  it  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 
He  was  at  Seravezza,  and  he  would  have  the  work 
begun.  The  gonfalonier,  he  writes  to  Buonarjcoto, 
seems  to  be  able  to  do  nothing ;  and  therefore  the 
matter  stagnates :  for  his  own  part,  he  would  now 
either  apply  to  the  pope  or  to  Cardinal  Medici,  —  he 
would  leave  every  thing  and  return  to  Carrara,  where 
they  had  called  him  back  with  as  many  entreaties  as 
if  he  were  Christ  himself.  They  had,  it  seems,  come 
to  their  senses  there.  The  Marchese  Malespina,  the 
possessor  of  Carrara,  furious  at  the  undertaking  at 
Pietrasanta,  had  caused  all  these  unpleasantnesses 
for  Michael  Angelo ;  now,  seeing  his  obstinacy,  he 
had  touched  a  softer  string. 

Michael  Angelo  himself  longed,  not  without  reason, 
to  return  to  Carrara.  "  These  workmen,"  he  says 
further  in  the  letter  just  quoted,  "  do  not  know  how 
to  lay  hold  of  any  thing.  Their  work  has  already 
cost  me  a  hundred  and  thirty  ducats ;  and  until  now 
they  have  not  brought  to  light  a  foot  of  available 
marble.  They  run  about,  do  as  if  they  were  doing 
something,  and  produce  nothing.  At  the  same  time, 


MICHAEL  ANGELO  AT  SERAVEZZA.       47  J 

they  are  trying  secretly  to  work  for  the  building  of 
the  cathedral,  and  other  things,  which  I  am  obliged 
to  pay  with  my  money.  I  know  not  who  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it;  but  the  pope  shall  know  exactly  how 
things  are  going  on  here.  I  have  thus  thrown  away 
three  hundred  ducats,  and  see  nothing  produced  for 
it.  It  would  be  easier  to  give  life  to  the  dead,  than 
to  bring  life  into  this  mountain,  or  any  understand- 
ing of  art  among  the  people.  If  the  guild  of  wool- 
weavers  would  give  me  three  hundred  ducats  a 
month,  I  should  still  be  badly  enough  paid  for  what 
I  do ;  I  cannot  even  accomplish  the  settlement  of 
the  contract.  Remember  me  to  Salviati  (the  gonfal- 
onier), and  write  to  me  through  my  servant  how 
things  stand.  I  must  come  to  some  resolution ;  for 
I  cannot  thus  remain  in  suspense."  Postscript.  — 
"  The  vessels  which  I  hired  at  Pisa  have  not  ap- 
peared. Therefore,  on  this  side  also,  all  goes  crook- 
edly. A  thousand  times  cursed  is  the  day  and  hour 
when  I  left  Carrara.  That  alone  is  the  fault  of  all 
the  mischief.  But  I  am  going  back.  Whoever,  at  the 
present  day,  wishes  to  do  a  thing  well,  gets  only 
loss  from  it."* 

Thus  he  writes  on  the  18th  April,  1518.  He  had 
been  in  Carrara  the  day  before,  and  had  commis- 
sioned a  Florentine  sculptor  to  have  his  blocks 
conveyed  away.  He  seems  to  have  been  reconciled 
again  with  the  people  there ;  and  henceforth  he 
divided  his  time  between  Carrara  and  Pietrasanta, 
carrying  on  the  work  at  both  places.  He  went  inter- 
mediately again  to  Florence,  where  they  were  laying 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XC. 


472  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  foundation  for  the  facade  of  San  Lorenzo ;  and 
where  in  August  he  purchased  a  plot  of  ground,  on 
which  to  build  a  house.  In  the  new  quarries,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  miseries  were  without  end,  —  sick- 
ness of  his  men,  deception,  idleness,  refractoriness, — 
until  at  last  he  was  left  entirely  in  the  lurch.  In 
September,  he  writes  most  despondingly  about  it. 
The  rain  never  ceased  in  the  mountain  ;  it  was  cold ; 
the  work  was  suspended.  Still  he  held  out  there 
through  the  winter,  it  seems,  quite  alone.  In  Octo- 
ber, he  himself  became  ill,  and  went  to  Florence ; 
but  on  the  last  day  of  the  month  he  was  already  back 
again.  At  length,  in  the  spring  of  1519,  he  had 
brought  matters  so  far,  that  a  number  of  pillars  and 
blocks,  finished  up  to  a  certain  point,  were  conveyed 
down  to  the  sea-shore,  to  be  shipped  to  Florence. 
One  pillar  was  broken  to  pieces  in  the  transport : 
then  suddenly  came  the  command  from  Rome  to 
leave  every  thing,  as  the  building  was  postponed  for 
the  present,  and  no  payment ! 

In  his  record  of  the  building  of  the  facade  of  San 
Lorenzo,  Michael  Angelo  speaks  with  anger  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  been  ultimately  treated. 
"  And  now,"  he  writes, "  Cardinal  Medici  forbids  me, 
in  the  name  of  the  pope,  to  carry  on  the  work.  It  is 
alleged,  that  they  wish  to  spare  me  the  difficulties 
of  conveying  the  marble  from  the  mountain  with  so 
much  labor ;  that  they  will  give  me  better  tasks  in 
Florence,  and  will  conclude  a  new  contract  with  me : 
and  there  it  has  remained  up  to  the  present  day ! " 
And,  at  the  same  time,  workmen  were  sent  to  Ser 
avezza,  on  the  part  of  the  Florentine  committee  foi 


FAgADE  OF  SAN  LORENZO.          473 

the  building  of  the  cathedral,  who  took  possession  of 
the  blocks  broken  by  Michael  Angelo,  and  brought 
them  to  the  sea,  along  the  road  which  he  had  con- 
structed, and  from  thence  to  Florence.  With  a  part 
of  these,  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  was  to  be  covered : 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  building  of  the  facade 
could  not  be  carried  on  without  Michael  Angelo's 
co-operation. 

He  asserted  that  they  ought  first  to  come  to  an 
arrangement  with  him  respecting  the  road.  The 
cathedral  committee  would  not  agree  to  this.  They 
had  been  obliged  to  give  a  thousand  ducats  for  the 
stone  quarry,  and  they  believed  themselves  in 
the  right ;  while  Michael  Angelo  regarded  their  con- 
duct as  an  encroachment,  which  he  need  not  allow. 
He  urged  for  a  fulfilment  of  the  obligations,  and, 
until  then,  declared  that  he  should  consider  the 
whole  as  his  property.  For  he  had  undertaken 
the  matter  in  the  lump,  and  had  thus  worked  for 
himself  alone. 

"  The  cardinal,"  he  continues,  "  now  desires  from  me  a 
statement  of  expenses  and  outlay,  so  that  he  may  come  to 
an  understanding  with  me,  and  may  use  the  marble  and 
the  road  to  Seravezza.  I  have  received  two  thousand 
three  hundred  ducats.  When  and  where  the  following 
accounts  show  :  Eighteen  hundred  of  them  are  paid  away, 
—  two  hundred  and  fifty  for  the  transport  of  my  marble 
from  Rome  to  Florence.  I  leave  out  of  account  here  the 
wooden  model  sent  to  Rome  ;  out  of  account  the  three 
years'  work  which  I  have  lost ;  out  of  account  the  fact  that 
this  building  has  ruined  me ;  out  of  account  in  what  light 
there,  —  that  they  have  intrusted  the  work  to  me, 


474  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO 

and  then,  without  cogent  reason,  have  taken  it  from  m»» 
again ;  out  of  account  my  house  in  Rome,  where  marble, 
implements,  and  ready  work,  amounting  to  more  than  five 
hundred  ducats,  have  been  all  lost:  for  all  this,  exactly 
five  hundred  ducats  of  the  money  are  left  for  me. 

"  But  it  is  as  well.  Let  the  pope  take  the  road  built  by 
me,  together  with  the  marble  I  have  dug ;  and  I  will  keep 
what  money  is  still  in  my  possession,  be  free  of  my  engage- 
ment, and  draw  up  a  writing  upon  the  whole  matter  for 
the  pope  to  sign." 

Such  was  Michael  Angelo's  proposal.  The  papers 
from  which  I  quote  these  sentences  seem  to  be  the 
note-book  drawn  up  by  him,  either  for  himself  or  for 
one  of  his  friends,  according  to  which  the  writing 
was  to  be  prepared  which  Leo  had  to  sign.  All  items 
of  expenses  are  stated,  even  to  the  most  insignificant. 
We  know  not  what  end  the  affair  came  to.  In  the 
year  1521,  the  first  and  only  pillar  of  those  hewn  in 
Pietrasanta  arrived  at  Florence.  For  years  it  lay 
there  on  the  square  before  San  Lorenzo,  until,  prob- 
ably only  for  the  sake  of  being  set  aside,  it  was  buried 
under  the  earth  at  the  spot.  The  others  were  still 
on  the  sea-shore  at  Pietrasanta  in  Vasari's  time.  It 
was  not  until  later  years  that  these  quarries  were 
regularly  worked,  and  the  means  of  transport  im- 
proved. Michael  Angelo  discovered  in  the  mountain 
a  variegated  marble,  very  hard,  but  beautiful  to 
work ;  and,  for  the  sake  of  this,  in  later  times,  Duke 
Cosmo  had  a  road  built  four  miles  in  length. 


FATE   OP  THE   MEDICI.  475 

6. 

Michael  Angelo  had  some  right  to  complain  of  the 
Medici:  if  we  look,  however,  to  the  reasons  why 
the  building  of  the  facade  came  at  that  time  to  a 
standstill,  circumstances,  generally,  were  alone  to 
blame.  At  the  time  when  the  building  was  deter- 
mined on,  the  family  stood  at  the  height  of  their 
power.  From  1516,  however,  a  change  had  taken 
place.  -  They  had  not  been  strong  enough  to  oppose 
the  intrigues  of  men  ;  they  could  as  little  resist  death 
as  other  mortals  ;  and  this  now  annihilated  that 
proud  structure,  which  the  family,  anticipating  the 
future,  had  in  fancy  erected  for  themselves. 

In  1516,  Giuliano  died.  He  had  long  dragged 
out  a  sick  and  melancholy  existence.  A  sonnet  by 
him  is  preserved,  in  which  he  defends  suicide.  The 
prevailing  epidemic  of  that  period  slowly  consumed 
him.  He  was  un  uomo  dabbene,  was  the  general  ver- 
dict, and  the  testimony  to  his  honorable  character, 
borne  by  the  Italians  of  that  time,  shows  that  the 
common  feeling  of  goodness  and  morality  was  ever 
esteemed  and  acknowledged  by  them.  The  duke- 
dom of  Urbino  was  thoroughly  indispensable  to  Lo- 
renzo's projected  kingdom.  But,  as  long  as  Giuliano 
lived,  he  knew  how,  in  spite  of  the  political  necessity, 
to  prevent  any  evil  happening  to  the  Rovere.  In 
the  unhappy  period  of  his  exile,  he  had  found  a  shel- 
ter at  Urbino ;  and  even  Leo,  although  he  called  the 
deceased  Julius  an  accursed  Jew  (just  as  the  latter 
had  done  Alexander  Borgia),  felt  himself  bound  to 
his  family.  The  last  words  which  Giuliano  ex- 


476  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

changed  with  his  brother  the  pope,  were  a  request 
in  favor  of  the  Rovere.  Leo  replied,  that  he  must 
think  before  every  thing  of  being  soon  well  again. 
But  scarcely  was  Giuliano  dead,  than  the  reprieve 
of  the  Duke  of  Urbino  expired.  Leo  declared  the 
old  murder  of  the  Cardinal  of  Pavia,  for  the  sake  of 
which  Julius  had  excommunicated  his  nephew,  but 
had  afterwards  absolved  him,  was  still  unatoned  for  ; 
he  excommunicated  the  duke  again,  took  away  his 
dignity  from  him,  and  made  Lorenzo  dei  Medici 
Duke  of  Urbino. 

We  may  regard  what  now  ensued  as  misfortune : 
but,  more  attentively  considered,  it  is  only  the  natu- 
ral vengeance  of  fate ;  for  Leo  had  not  only  done  an 
injustice,  but  he  had  acted  contrary  to  his  innermost 
nature.  He  was  really  easy ;  he  loved  repose  ;  he 
wished  to  devote  himself  to  his  inclinations,  to  have 
the  gossip  of  the  city  reported  in  the  Vatican,  and 
to  join  in  it ;  to  patronize  a  little  art,  to  hunt  a  lit- 
tle, to  improve  the  morals  of  the  clergy  a  little  —  (if 
an  ecclesiastic  had  publicly  cursed  God,  or  said  scan- 
dalous or  obscene  things  respecting  Christ  or  the 
Virgin  Mary,  he  was,  if  he  had  a  public  income,  to 
forfeit  the  first  time  three  months  of  it ;  a  nobleman, 
on  the  contrary,  had  only  twenty-five  ducats  to  pay, 
for  the  improvement  of  St.  Peter's  Church, — a  proof 
this  of  the  new  severe  penal  laws) ,  —  in  short,  the 
pope  was  mild  and  amiable ;  and  the  words  which 
he  said  to  Giuliano  after  his  elevation, —  "Let  us 
now  enjoy  the  authority  which  God  has  given  us," 
—  were  certainly  spoken  from  the  depths  of  his 
soul. 


FATE   OF   THE  MEDICI.  477 

But  Lorenzo  and  his  mother  Alfonsina  formed  the 
impelling  element.  They  urged  Leo  to  more  speedy 
measures,  when  he  would  rather  have  acted  as  occa- 
sion offered.  Proud,  passionate,  warlike,  and  con- 
sumed by  ambition,  by  far  more  of  an  Orsini  than 
his  father  Piero  had  been,  Lorenzo  despised  the  quiet 
method  of  his  uncles.  He  effected  the  war  against 
Urbino,  and  waged  it  during  the  years  1517  and 
1518.  The  Duke  of  Urbino  was  driven  away ;  but 
in  Rome  his  party  contrived  a  plot  against  the  pope's 
life,  in  which  San  Giorgio  was  again  a  participator. 
The  conspiracy  was  discovered ;  and  the  guilty  cardi- 
nals, instead  of  fleeing,  threw  themselves  with  re- 
pentant, tearful  acknowledgment  at  the  feet  of  the 
pope,  who  pardoned  them.  Nothing  so  completely 
shows  the  character  of  Leo.  That  they  should  rely 
upon  his  pardoning  them  in  such  a  case,  and  that 
they  reckoned  truly,  proves  how  well  they  knew  the 
secret  weakness  of  his  nature.  Julius  II.  would 
have  allowed  them  to  believe  the  same. 

At  length  Lorenzo  had  the  dukedom  in  his  power. 
A  French  princess  was  his  consort.  The  wedding 
was  celebrated  in  the  year  1518 ;  but  the  year  fol- 
lowing was  that  of  his  death ;  and  at  the  same  time 
died  his  mother  Alfonsina,  and  Magdalena  Cybo, 
Leo's  sister,  —  Contessina  Ridolft  having  already  pre- 
ceded them.  Such  was  the  end  of  all  the  plans. 
The  pope  sat  alone  in  the  Vatican,  in  the  garden  of 
which  there  only  played  the  little  Hippolyte,  Giuli- 
ano's  surviving  illegitimate  son,  his  only  child : 
Cardinal  Medici  took  possession  of  the  Government 
in  Florence. 


478  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

What  was  the  object  now  of  further  efforts  ?  Bui 
here,  too,  the  very  evil  which  had  caused  the  sickness 
appeared  as  its  remedy :  Leo's  old  careless  nature 
was  not  to  be  perplexed.  Now  as  ever  he  yielded 
to  things  which  beguiled  time ;  and,  instead  of  brood- 
ing over  the  evil  which  had  so  severely  befallen  him, 
he  hunted,  he  sang,  he  gossipped,  and  pursued  the 
general  policy  of  the  popes,  in  allowing  no  foreign 
power  to  gain  ground  in  Italy,  and  in  making  use 
of  the  European  princes  one  against  another.  But 
he  could  not  lay  out  money  as  he  had  done  before. 
All  had  been  squandered  away.  The  whole  im- 
mense treasure  collected  by  Julius  II.,  and  left  to 
Leo,  had  disappeared.  Lorenzo's  war  against  Urbino 
had  cost  too  much.  Every  day  a  fresh  basket  of 
gold-pieces  was  placed  in  the  pope's  hands  ;  at  eve- 
ning it  was  empty :  eight  thousand  ducats  were  thus 
alone  spent  every  month.  The  crown  jewels  were 
placed  with  Chigi.  The  office  of  cardinal  was  put  to 
sale.  The  means  actually  no  longer  existed  for 
continuing  the  building  of  the  facade.  They  would 
gladly  have  built  further,  had  it  been  possible. 

Nothing  was  heai*d  for  a  time  of  the  new  works 
which  Michael  Angelo  was  to  receive  as  an  indem- 
nification. So  disheartened  was  he,  that,  for  a  time, 
he  would  touch  nothing ;  and  what  he  did  begin  he 
left  unfinished.  Some  of  his  uncompleted  works,  a 
tolerable  number  of  which  are  in  existence,  belong 
perhaps  to  this  time.  At  last,  he  turned  again  to 
Julius's  mausoleum,  the  blocks  for  which  were  now 
partly  in  Florence.  Michael  Angelo  stood  well  with 
Cardinal  Medici.  The  cardinal  was  a  serious  man. 


PETITION   TO   LEO   X.  479 

who,  instead  of  keeping  the  magnificent  court,  in 
the  centre  of  which  Lorenzo  had  ruled  with  his 
consort,  dwelt  solitarily  and  quietly  in  the  Medici 
palace,  and  sought  for  the  society  of  liberal-minded, 
intellectiial  men,  whose  influence  over  the  Govern- 
ment was  apparent. 

This  change  in  the  intellectual  life  of  the  city  is 
exhibited  in  a  document  which,  dated  in  the  autumn 
of  1519,  makes  Michael  Angelo  appear  as  one  of  the 
men  who,  at  that  time,  formed  the  flower  of  the  city. 
There  still  existed  that  institution  of  the  old  Loren- 
zo, the  Platonic  Academy  in  Florence,  in  which  phi- 
losophy and  poetry  were  cultivated,  and  the  choicest 
productions  of  which  were  exhibited  with  public 
ceremonies  before  the  entire  people.  Still,  fallen 
into  decay,  it  only  dragged  out  a  miserable  exist- 
ence. Cardinal  Medici  brought  new  life  into  these 
things :  in  October,  1519,  a  petition  was  dispatched 
to  Rome,  in  which  the  favor  of  the  pope  was  request- 
ed, in  the  first  place  to  grant  resources,  and,  in  the 
next,  to  allow  Dante's  ashes  to  be  brought  back  to 
Florence. 

Michael  Angelo  loved  Dante  beyond  all  other 
poets.  He  knew  whole  poems  c  f  his  by  heart.  His 
own  poems  flow  in  Dante's  form  and  ideas.  He  is 
said  to  have  drawn  a  book  of  sketches  to  Dante, 
which  was  lost  in  a  shipwreck.  We  find  Michael 
Angelo's  name  among  those  signing  the  petition. 
"  I,  Michael  Angelo  the  sculptor,"  he  writes,  "  also 
entreat  your  Holiness,  and  offer  to  erect  a  monu- 
ment worthy  of  the  divine  poet  in  an  honorable 
place  in  the  city."  While  others  only  solicited  for 


480  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

the  ashes  of  the  poet,  and  for  money,  Michael  Angelc 
conceived  the  matter  otherwise,  and  wished  to  exe- 
cute a  monument  to  him.  He  could  well  do  that ; 
for  he  was  a  wealthy  man,  living  sparingly,  but 
never  withholding  his  money  for  great  objects. 

We  see  at  once,  from  the  signatures  to  this  peti- 
tion, in  what  society  he  moved  at  that  time.  We 
find  there  the  most  important  names  of  the  city, 
the  literary  nobility  of  Florence,  all  written  in  Latin 
(instead  of  Palla  Rucellai,  we  read  Pallas  Oricellari- 
us).  Michael  Angelo  alone  writes  amongst  them 
all,  "  lo,  Michelagniolo,  scultore,"  and  so  forth.  He 
writes  in  Italian,  not  because  he  did  not  understand 
Latin,  but  because,  proud  of  the  language  of  Dante, 
lie  would  not  see  it  disregarded.  "  Public  things," 
he  said,  "  must  be  drawn  up  in  the  language  in 
which  they  would  be  verbally  discussed."*  He  is 
the  only  artist  whose  name  stands  below  the  petition. 
It  seems  that  he  held  himself  completely  aloof  from 
the  circle  of  artists.  But  like  a  great  scholar  who 
keeps  alone  in  his  room,  and  yet  can  be  the  soul  of 
a  whole  university,  he  formed  the  central  point 
of  the  efforts  of  Florentine  art. 

On  all  occasions,  retired  as  Michael  Angelo  lived, 
•  his  eye  watched  over  all  that  happened.  He  rarely 
appeared  in  public,  —  only  on  occasions  when  he 
considered  his  influence  indispensable ;  but  then  he 
did  so  with  all  his  energy.  His  old  friend,  Baccio 
d'Agnolo,  chief  architect  at  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore, 
had  made  the  design  for  an  outer  gallery  for  the 
still  unfinished  cupola  of  the  cathedral,  running 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XCI. 


THE   CATHEDRAL  AT   FLORENCE.  481 

round  the  whole  at  the  place  where  the  dome  begins ; 
and  a  considerable  portion  of  it  had  been  already 
completed.  Brimelleschi's  old  drawing  had  been 
lost.  Michael  Angelo  once  more  cast  his  eyes  over 
Florence,  and  discovered  what  had  been  done.  He 
observed  how  a  narrow  passage  had  been  carried 
round  the  cupola,  quite  in  opposition  to  Brunelles- 
dii's  bold  style,  and  in  contradiction  to  the  whole 
building ;  he  saw  how  they  were  chiselling  away  the 
immense  corbels,  which  Brunelleschi  had  raised  for 
his  future  work.  No  friendship  could  longer  re- 
strain him.  What  had  a  grasshopper's  cage  to  do 
up  there  ?  Something  vast,  something  grand,  was 
the  only  suitable  thing.  He  would  show  how  it 
was  to  be  done. 

A  committee  of  experienced  artists  and  citizens 
discussed  the  matter  in  the  presence  of  the  cardinal. 
Michael  Angelo  produced  his  plan,  which  was  com- 
pared with  Baccio's.  Such  committees,  even  if  the 
wisest  men  are  among  them,  never  accomplish  any 
thing:  they  saw  that  Baccio  had  produced  some- 
thing, which,  though  well  designed,  was  too  small, 
too  insignificant ;  but  they  could  not  make  up  their 
minds  to  Michael  Angelo' s  proposals.  And  so  at 
the  present  day  the  cupola  of  the  cathedral  still 
stands,  half  surrounded  by  Baccio's  gallery,  half 
encircled  by  the  projecting  corbels  of  Brunelleschi 
Such  is  the  history  of  the  great  reproach  which 
Passavant,  in  his  Life  of  Raphael,  raises  against  Mi- 
chael Angelo,  —  that  he  prevented  the  completion 
of  the  cupola  of  the  cathedral  at  Florence !  How 
well  Michael  Angelo  knew  how  to  esteem  and  to 

vor..  T.  21  EE 


482  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

defend  the  works  of  Baccio  d'Agnolo,  is  shown  by 
his  care,  at  a  subsequent  time,  for  the  tower  of  the 
church  of  San  Miniato,  which  had  now  just  begun 
to  be  built.  Michael  Angelo  always  kept  in  view 
the  thing  itself,  and  never  the  persons  connected 
with  it.  This  was  the  reason  for  the  cutting  severity 
which  he  so  often  exhibits,  but  which  in  most  cases 
never  wounded  those  whom  it  concerned.  They 
understood  him. 

A  still  more  unimportant  work  for  the  cardinal 
is  mentioned  as  occurring  at  this  time.  On  the 
ground-floor  of  the  Medici  palace,  which  Michellozzo 
had  formerly  erected  for  the  old  Cosmo  (now  known 
under  the  name  of  Palazzo  Riccardi,  having  been 
sold  subsequently,  when  the  Medici  used  larger 
palaces  for  their  residence),  was  a  loggia,  a  jlace 
open  towards  the  street,  where  the  citizens  were 
wont  to  gather  together  for  occasional  discussions. 
The  cardinal  had  transformed  it  into  a  closed  apart- 
ment. The  arches  were  walled  up,  and  windows 
inserted.  Michael  Angelo  made  the  drawing  for  it. 
The  bronze  lattice-work  of  the  windows,  made  after 
his  design  by  the  goldsmith  Piloto,  became  cele- 
brated. The  interior  of  the  apartment  was  painted 
by  Giovanni  da  Udine,  one  of  Raphael's  assistants, 
who  helped  him  in  the  Vatican,  but  who  won  espe- 
cial fame  by  the  garlands  in  the  ceiling  of  the  Far- 
nesina,  that  architecture  of  flowers,  between  which 
Raphael  painted  the  story  of  Psyche. 


THE   RAISING   OF   LAZARUS.  483 

T. 

It  soon  appeared  that  it  had  been  no  subterfuge 
on  the  part  of  the  cardinal,  when  he  gave  Michael 
Angelo  hopes  of  more  important  work;  and  we 
should  at  once  proceed  to  mention  the  task  which 
was  begun  in  the  Easter  of  1520,  though  devised  in 
the  preceding  winter,  if  at  that  same  Easter,  1520, 
an  event  had  not  occurred  which  has  given  this  year 
a  sad  celebrity  in  the  history  of  art,  —  the  death  of 
Raphael. 

At  Christmas,  1519,  Michael  Angelo  had  been 
reminded  of  him.  Sebastian  del  Piombo  wrote 
from  Rome  that  the  Raising  of  Lazarus  was  finished. 
He  first  mentions  the  happy  event  of  the  christen- 
ing of  his  little  son,  to  whom  Michael  Angelo  was 
sponsor.  The  little  one  had  received  the  name  of 
Luciano.  He  next  says,  that  he  had  conveyed  the 
painting  to  the  palace,  and  was  extraordinarily  satis- 
fied with  its  reception  there.  The  "  usual  ones " 
alone  had  said  nothing  about  it.  By  them  he  seems 
to  mean  Raphael's  party ;  and  this  is  confirmed  by 
the  observation  which  immediately  follows,  that  he 
believes  his  picture  better  designed  than  the  tapes- 
tries which  had  just  arrived  from  Flanders.* 

Sebastian's  painting,  after  various  destinies,  has 
at  length  reached  the  London  National  Gallery :  it 
is  a  work  which  has  been  much  injured,  and  grown 
darker  by  time ;  but  the  extraordinary  effect  of 
coloring  is  still  plainly  to  be  perceived.  In  the 
front,  on  the  right,  sits  Lazarus.  Just  awakened 

«  See  Appendix,  Note  XCII. 


484  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

from  the  sleep  of  death,  and  still  partly  in  a  vague 
state  of  bewilderment,  he  endeavors  to  tear  from 
him  the  linen  bandages  with  which  he  is  enveloped. 
Around  him,  men  are  busily  anxious  to  undertake 
this  trouble ;  but  Lazarus,  like  a  man  freeing  him- 
self from  imprisonment,  pulls  away  with  his  right 
hand  the  clothes  which  he  is  endeavoring  to  remove 
from  his  left  arm,  while  with  the  toes  of  his  right 
foot  he  tears  the  bandages  which,  encircle  the  left 
knee.  This  movement  proclaims,  at  the  first  glance, 
Michael  Angelo's  share  in  the  picture ;  for  no  other 
would  have  devised  it  or  executed  it  with  such 
life. 

Opposite  Lazarus,  on  the  left  side  of  the  painting, 
stands  Christ:  one  hand  stretched  out  towards  the 
waking  man,  the  other  with  the  outspread  fingers 
raised.  Before  him  kneels  Mary,  looking  up  to 
him  with  an  expression  of  happy  gratitude ;  around 
him  on  all  sides  crowd  the  disciples,  whom  the 
miracle  filled  with  a  feeling  of  sacred  awe.  The 
background  is  occupied  with  a  number  of  figures,  all 
of  them  expressing  with  unusual  naturalness  what  is 
passing  in  their  minds,  —  none  of  them  unessential ; 
and,  to  conclude  all,  a  landscape,  the  view  of  a  city 
with  a  river,  over  which  a  bridge  leads,  and  a  range 
of  mountains  behind  covered  with  clouds.  Sebastian 
had  good  reason  to  be  proud  of  his  laborious  work. 
He  begs  Michael  Angelo  to  effect  a  speedy  payment 
for  it  by  the  cardinal  in  Florence,  as  he  is  in  need  of 
money. 

We  must  pardon  Sebastian,  if,  in  the  feeling  of 
being  obliged  to  crush  the  caiise  of  his  master  on 


DEATH   OF   RAPHAEL.  485 

every  occasion,  lie  now  prefers  the  Lazarus,  as  re- 
gards the  design,  to  the  tapestries  of  Raphael.  He 
was  not  able  to  conceive  things  beyond  the  limits  of 
his  mind.  He  never  attempted  to  express  ideas  in 
his  paintings.  The  highest  he  could  recognize  was 
the  technical  part,  in  which  almost  his  only  merit 
lies ;  but  it  is  a  great  one,  for  not  only  in  color,  but 
in  design,  he  produced  excellent  things.  Michael 
Angelo,  however,  would  have  spoken  differently 
of  Lazarus  and  the  tapestries.  "  The  tapestries," 
Goethe  justly  says,  "  are  the  only  work  of  Raphael 
which  does  not  seem  insignificant,  after  seeing 
Michael  Angelo's  ceiling  in  the  Sistine  Chapel."  A 
variety  of  composition  is  displayed  in  them,  fully 
equal  to  Michael  Angelo's  power ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  they  possess  a  naturalness  and  simple  grace,  in 
which  he  would  probably  have  acknowledged  himself 
to  have  been  surpassed.  It  is  possible,  that  the  sight 
of  this  work  would  have  melted  the  ice  between  these 
two  men,  just  as  long  years  were  needed  also  with 
Goethe  and  Schiller,  before  they  knew  each  other 
justly.  No  further  opportunity,  however,  was  now 
afforded  them  for  this.  They  did  not  meet  again. 
On  Good  Friday,  1520,  a  few  months  after  Sebastian 
del  Piombo's  letter,  Raphael  died,  leaving  the  great 
Michael  Angelo  behind,  from  henceforth  alone  and 
without  a  worthy  rival  in  the  world. 

It  was  a  blow  which  disconcerted  even  the  placid- 
minded  pope.  The  fourteen  days  during  which  the 
consuming  fever  lasted,  under  which  Raphael  sank, 
he  sent  daily  to  inquire  after  him,  and  burst  into 
tears  when  lie  received  the  last  tidings.  Snatched 


486  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

away,  as  it  were,  from  life,  Raphael  was  bled  by  big 
physician,  instead  of  receiving  strengthening  reme- 
dies. From  this  he  sank.  He  lay  there  dead  in 
his  palace ;  at  his  head  stood  the  unfinished  painting 
of  the  Ascension  of  Christ.  An  immense  multitude 
followed  his  body  to  the  Pantheon,  where  the  in- 
scription upon  a  marble  slab  over  his  tomb  is  still  to 
be  read.  It  tells  us  that  both  Ms  birth  and  his  death 
occurred  on  a  Good  Friday. 

A  year  before,  Leonardo  da  Vinci  had  died  in 
France,  where  Francis  I.  had  prepared  an  honorable 
position  for  him.  Leonardo  did  not  see  Italy  again  : 
we  have  little  information  respecting  his  last  years. 
A  document  is,  however,  in  existence,  more  eloquent 
than  letters  and  records, — a  portrait  which  he  has 
drawn  of  himself,  —  a  red-chalk  sketch  in  the  col- 
lection of  the  Louvre.  An  indescribable  touch  of 
bitterness  lies  in  his  mouth,  and  a  gloomy  severity 
in  his  eye,  both  of  which  are  sufficient  to  tell  us 
that  this  man  lived  at  discord  with  his  fate.  We 
see,  in  this  portrait,  bitterness,  reserve,  superiority, 
— something  almost  of  the  character  of  a  magician. 
When  we  call  to  mind  Yasari's  description,  —  how 
Leonardo  in  his  youthful  years  poured  forth  so 
much  amiability,  that  all  felt  themselves  carried 
away  and  captivated  by  him;  when  we  read  there 
how  in  youthful  glee  in  the  streets  of  Florence, 
drawing  together  the  bird-sellers  on  the  market-, 
place,  he  promised  them  as  much  money  as  they 
demanded  if  they  would  open  their  cages ;  when  we 
see  how  his  mind,  revelling  in  the  unusual  extent 
of  its  power,  with  creating  and  observing  energy, 


DEATH   OF   LEONARDO.  487 

grasped  every  thing,  and  produced  every  thing; 
and  when  we  compare  him  in  his  old  age  with  all 
this,  far  from  his  country,  without  friends  to  miss 
him  there,  and  with  no  great  conclusion  to  his 
active  life  in  France,  —  we  feel  how,  with  all  these 
mental  gifts,  happiness  must  be  added,  if  they  are 
to  unfold,  and  bear  fruit.  How  sadly  he  may  have 
thought  on  Italy !  Melzi  was  with  him,  and  an- 
nounced his  death  to  his  relatives  in  Florence. 

Leonardo's  loss  was  not  important  to  Italian  art : 
Raphael's  sudden  decease  was  a  blow,  which  was 
deeply  felt.  He  died  too  early,  not  for  his  fame, 
but  for  the  founding  of  a  school.  He  could  have  still 
produced  and  effected  extraordinary  things.  With 
him,  as  it  were,  a  fire  was  extinguished,  which  sup- 
plied the  impelling  power  to  the  wheels  of  an  im- 
mense factory.  "  Rome  is  empty  and  desolate  to 
me  since  Raphael  is  no  longer  there,"  wrote  Count 
Castiglione.  Whoever  has  experienced  the  sudden 
departure  of  a  great  mind,  and  the  void  left  behind, 
can  form  an  idea  of  what  the  city  lost  in  him.  For, 
besides  what  is  daily  produced  and  gratefully  re- 
ceived from  such  great  natures  as  long  as  they  live 
and  work,  it  is  only  after  their  loss  that  we  feel  the 
secret  sustaining  power  with  which  they  filled  every 
thing  around  them,  without  leaving  a  presentiment 
of  it  upon  those  who  felt  strong  in  this  borrowed 
strength.  Raphael  served  the  court  with  agreeable 
obsequiousness ;  but,  under  the  outward  veil  of  this 
subservient  friendliness,  there  dwelt  a  keen  and 
royal  mind,  which  bent  before  no  power,  and  went 
its  own  way  solitarily,  like  the  soul  of  Michael 


488  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Angelo.  In  Germany,  whenever  Raphael  is  men- 
tioned, we  think  first  of  the  Dresden  Madonna,  one 
of  his  last  works,  and  the  most  thrilling  of  all.  It 
is  as  if,  after  so  many  Madonnas,  he  had  at  length 
pictured  in  his  mind  the  most  beautiful  counte- 
nance, with  which  the  others  were  not  to  be  com- 
pared. What  a  creation  !  Nothing  can  be  said  in 
its  praise,  any  more  than  in  that  of  the  starry 
heavens,  or  the  sea,  or  the  spring.  Standing  before 
it,  we  forget  Rome,  the  past,  the  earthly  fate  of 
Raphael.  He  appears  to  us  like  an  intimate  friend, 
knowing  our  thoughts,  —  like  a  mild  and  benevolent 
power,  only  using  forms  and  colors  to  convey  to 
men  a  boundless  profusion  of  beauty.  There  are 
natures  which  Michael  Angelo  does  not  suit ;  there 
is  no  artist,  I  believe,  who  does  not  meet  with  oppo- 
sition somewhere.  Raphael,  however,  overcomes 
all ;  there  is  no  man  who  could  exclude  himself 
from  the  blessed  power  of  his  works. 

We  know  not,  from  the  smallest  expression,  what 
impression  Raphael's  death  made  upon  Michael  An- 
gelo. We  have  not  a  word  from  his  pen  in  the  year 
1520.  This  only  is  known,  —  that  Michael  Angelo 
lay  sick  in  Florence  at  about  that  time,  while,  on  the 
last  day  of  March  of  the  same  year,  the  walls  of  the 
new  work  assigned  him  by  the  cardinal  were  already 
in  course  of  construction.  The  Medici  had  given  up 
the  facade, — the  monument  of  affluence  and  pride ; 
and,  instead  of  it,  a  chapel  with  the  tombs  of  Lo- 
renzo and  Giuliano  was  to  be  added  to  the  same 
church :  a  counterpart  to  the  old  sacristy  with  the 
tombs  of  the  earlier  Medici,  built  by  Brunelleschi. 


THE   SITTING   MADONNA.  489 

However  good  the  will  of  the  cardinal  was,  cir- 
cumstances here  also  prevented  the  execution  of  the 
work.  It  remained  at  its  very  commencement 
throughout  the  year  1520.  Michael  Angelo  must 
have  been  engaged  with  the  preparation  of  the 
model.  In  April,  1521,  he  went  to  Carrara,  and  gave 
orders.  On  the  22d  April,  1521,  he  purchased  there 
two  hundred  cart-loads  of  marble,  out  of  which  three 
figures,  to  be  rough-hewn  to  a  certain  extent  after 
his  model,  were  to  be  sent  to  Florence  at  the  end  of 
1523.  He  had  his  own  stone-masons  on  the  spot  to 
execute  these.  Whatever  was  broken  off  was  to  be 
cut  into  square  blocks,  and  sent  to  the  city  in  the 
following  July.  On  the  23d  April,  he  purchased  a 
second  quantity  of  marble  for  a  sitting  Madonna, 
which  was  expected  in  Florence  at  the  end  of 
1522. 

This  Madonna,  the  first  figure  of  the  whole  num- 
ber which  is  expressly  mentioned,  is  not  among  those 
which  were  ever  completely  finished.  Considerably 
more  than  the  last  touching-up  is  wanting.  There 
still  exists  a  model,  scarcely  a  foot  high,  which  is 
considered  as  Michael  Angelo' s  original  work.  The 
holy  Virgin  is  seated  on  a  stool  without  a  back ;  the 
upper  part  of  her  body  is  bent  forwards,  one  leg 
crossed  over  the  other ;  and  the  child  is  sitting  astride 
over  her  lap  upon  the  uppermost  knee.  He  is  turn- 
ing round,  looking  up  to  his  mother,  who  bends 
down  her  face  a  little  towards  him.  With  her  right 
hand  she  supports  herself  on  the  scat,  her  arm  grasp- 
ing something  behind,  —  a  natural  and  beautiful  atti- 
tude, and  all  the  more  graceful  here,  as  it  is  placed 

21* 


490  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

in  a  more  beautiful  light  by  a  rich  and  manifold 
arrangement  of  drapery,  as  a  drawing  is,  as  it  were, 
by  colors.  With  her  left  hand  she  holds  the  child 
near  her,  its  lips  and  little  hand  searching  for  the 
left  bosom,  which  lies  nearest  to  him. 

Michael  Angelo,  however,  cannot  have  undertaken 
this  figure  in' Florence  before  the  year  1523.  When 
he  came  back  from  Carrara,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
summer  of  1521,  he  seems  only  then  to  have  settled 
the  whole  affair  by  contract.  He  made  his  propo- 
sals ;  the  cardinal  was  not  satisfied  with  them.  Mi- 
chael Angelo  offered  to  make  a  model  in  wood  of 
the  interior  of  the  sacristy,  with  the  figures  in  clay, 
and  then  to  arrange  the  whole  for  a  fixed  sum.  He 
had  just  then  in  view  a  purchase  of  some  premises, 
and  wished  to  have  the  money  to  lay  out  in  it.  But 
the  cardinal  could  come  to  no  decision.  The  war 
in  Lombardy  made  his  presence  with  the  army  neces- 
sary. The  French  were  again  to  be  expelled,  this 
time  by  the  pope  and  emperor  in  concert ;  and  so, 
at  the  end  of  September,  he  left  Florence,  to  give 
greater  energy  to  the  conduct  of  the  war  as  the 
pope's  plenipotentiary. 

Before  his  departure,  he  spoke  with  Michael  An 
gelo,  and  begged  him  to  expedite  the  arrival  of  the 
marble,  to  engage  workmen,  and  to  begin  the  work ; 
so  that,  on  his  return,  he  might  find  the  building  a 
good  deal  advanced.  The  whole  thing  was  still  so 
completely  at  its  commencement,  that  the  conclusion 
of  the  contract  might  be  deferred  to  a  later  time. 
He  gave  him  also  to  understand  that  the  completion 
of  the  facade  was  not  a  matter  given  up ;  and  that 


DEATH   OF   LEO   X.  491 

his  treasurer,  to  whom  he  had  given  directions,  would 
pay  the  money  requisite  in  the  meantime. 

The  latter,  however,  after  the  departure  of  his 
master,  appeared  to  have  received  no  such  orders, 
and  begged  Michael  Angelo  to  apply  by  letter  to  the 
cardinal.  But  Michael  Angelo  was  not  to  be  induced 
to  do  this.  Now  came  the  sudden  death  of  the  pope. 
So  little  money  was  there  in  Rome,  that  the  expenses 
for  a  suitable  funeral  could  scarcely  be  defrayed. 
The  cardinal  returned  victorious,  deprived,  however, 
of  all  advantage  in  his  success  by  the  loss  of  him  for 
whom  he  conquered.  No  one  had  expected  this 
event.  Leo,  if  not  healthy,  was  still  vigorous,  and  in 
the  prime  of  life.  For  the  moment,  the  first  care  of 
the  Medici  must  have  been  to  maintain  themselves 
in  Florence,  where,  besides  the  people's  universal 
love  of  liberty,  they  were  threatened  by  the  hatred 
of  individuals ;  above  all,  by  the  hostility  of  the  Sod- 
erini,  who  were  at  that  time  so  powerful  in  Florence, 
Rome,  and  Franca. 

At  the  end  of  January,  1522,  the  cardinal  returned 
again  to  the  city.  Michael  Angelo  received  the 
fairest  promises  from  him.  He  was  assured  that 
they  wished  for  nothing  more  ardently  than  to 
possess  something  excellent  from  his  hands  for  the 
monuments ;  but  they  in  nowise  now  committed  to 
him  the  entire  building  or  any  definite  task.  Michael 
Angelo  at  length  left,  promising  to  return  again 
when  the  blocks  from  Carrara  had  arrived.  He 
went  back  to  Julius's  mausoleum,  and  to  other 
works,  with  which,  without  knowing  them  more 
accurately,  we  must  suppose  him  to  have  been  occu- 


492  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

pied ;  for,  in  an  atelier  like  his,  there  could  be  nc 
cessation. 

Among  the  works  occurring  at  this  time,  the  statue 
of  Christ  standing  by  the  cross,  in  the  Church  of 
Sopra  Minerva  in  Rome,  is  mentioned.  Shortly 
before  the  death  of  Leo,  it  was  erected  at  the  expense 
of  a  Roman  citizen,  and  acquired  such  great  celebrity, 
that  Francis  I.  had  subsequently  a  model  taken  from 
it,  that  he  might  have  a  bronze  cast  made  of  it  in 
Paris.  It  is  not  certain  whether  it  was  executed 
in  Rome  or  Florence.  In  its  outward  finish,  and  as 
a  representation  of  a  naked  human  form  in  the  prime 
of  beauty,  it  is  a  most  admirable  work ;  but,  as  an 
image  of  Him  whom  it  is  to  call  to  mind,  it  is  the 
first  statue  of  Michael  Angelo's  which  we  must  des- 
ignate as  full  of  mannerism. 

We  call  a  work  of  art  full  of  mannerism,  when 
the  form  it  represents  appears  so  treated,  that  the 
spiritual  idea  it  contains  is  made  subordinate.  The 
limit  here  is  often  difficult  to  find.  The  greatest 
artists  may  fall  into  mannerism ;  for  imitation  of  the 
peculiarities  of  others  is  not  the  only  thing  requisite 
for  this :  the  slightest  departure  from  the  pure  idea 
makes  the  richest  and  most  independent  genius  pro- 
duce works  full  of  mannerism.  Michael  Angelo's 
power  depended  on  his  knowledge  of  anatomy.  He 
dissected  bodies,  or  drew  them  from  life  in  every 
imaginable  way,  till  the  movement  of  every  muscle 
was  thoroughly  familiar  to  him.  He  exhibited  fore- 
shortenings,  which  the  masters  before  him  scarcely 
ventured  to  think  of.  He  abolished  the  stiff  old 
rules,  and  gave  his  figures  the  free  use  of  their  limbs 


THE   CHRIST   IN   THE   MINERVA.  493 

Iii  sculpture,  his  masterly  power  appeared  in  the 
accuracy  with  which  he  made  the  position  of  the 
muscles  visible  in  every  turn  of  the  figure.  Here, 
however,  his  art  misled  him.  Weary  of  ordinary, 
quiet  positions,  in  which  the  limbs  at  rest -give  too 
little  prominence  to  the  change  of  which  the  parts 
beneath  the  skin  are  capable,  he  sought  for  difficulties 
only  for  the  sake  of  overcoming  them ;  and  he  made 
his  figures  assume  attitudes  which  exhibited  less  of 
the  all-imbuing  mind  at  work,  than  the  boldness  and 
knowledge  of  Michael  Angelo. 

The  statue  of  Christ  in  the  Minerva  receives  from 
its  position  that  broken  light  usual  in  such  places, 
rarely  admitting  of  a  just  view.  The  figure  stands 
upright ;  the  cross,  formed  of  a  light  reed,  is  at  his 
side ;  the  right  hand  is  holding  it  tightly  grasped, 
with  the  arm  downwards ;  while  the  left,  stretching 
across  the  breast,  touches  it  higher  up.  The  legs  and 
the  lower  part  of  the.  body  are  at  the  same  time 
turned  towards  the  left  in  the  movement ;  the  left  leg 
a  little  advancing,  the  right  receding.  The  upper 
part  of  the  body  is  turning  with  the  shoulders 
towards  the  other  side ;  and  this  turn  of  the  figure 
above  the  hips  is  the  masterpiece  of  the  work. 

The  position  in  itself,  however,  does  not  corre- 
spond with  the  person  of  Him  whom  it  is  to  repre- 
sent. If  I  take  up  the  plaster  cast  of  the  small, 
delicately  executed  model,  to  which  the  shoulders 
and  head  are  lacking,  I  should  believe  myself  look- 
ing at  the  torso  of  an  Achilles.  The  organization 
would  lead  one  to  suppose  the  perfection  r£  human 
power  in  slender,  strong  proportions.  We  imagine 


494  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

that  a  helmet  must  have  covered  the  head,  and  a 
shield  have  hung  on  the  missing  arm.  There  is 
something  warlike  and  Heroic  in  the  firm  position 
of  the  two  feet,  which  appears  strange  for  one  whom 
we  picture  treading  this  earth  so  gently,  that  the 
flowers  rose  under  his  feet,  as  though  but  a  breath 
of  wind  had  bent  them. 

This  gentle,  enduring  character  did  not  belong  to 
Michael  Angelo  ;  he  could  not  place  in  his  works 
what  he  did  not  possess.  He  represented  the  corpse 
of  Christ  in  its  tender,  ill-used  weakness ;  but,  where 
he  produces  him  as  living,  he  makes  him  seem 
coarse  and  strong,  as  Raphael  also  does  at  times,  or 
as  he  appears  in  the  original  German  translation  of 
the  gospel  as  the  "  strong,  mighty  Lord."  *  He 
seems  like  a  general  in  arms ;  and  the  apostles,  his 
train  of  martial  knights.  Michael  Angelo,  especially 
in  his  designs,  makes  him  often  almost  gigantic.  I 
remember  one,  where  the  sitting  dead  body  is  fall- 
ing on  one  side  ;  or  another,  where  he  rises  from  the 
grave.  His  crossed  arms  raised,  his  head  looking 
upwards  and  turned  far  back,  his  feet  close  together, 
he  soars  from  the  open  grave.  There  is  an  impetu- 
ous power  in  the  movement.  We  feel  as  if  he  could 
seize  the  whole  world,  and  carry  it  with  him.  The 
watchmen  start  asunder,  as  if  a  volcano  had  burst 
between  them.  There  is  no  artist  in  the  world 
who  could  thus  embody  in  outlin-3  the  action  of  his 
figures,  as  Michael  Angelo  has  done. 

The  Christ  in  the  Minerva  was  not  entirely  com- 
pleted by  him.  A  Florentine  sculptor,  Federigo 

*  "  Starke  gewaltige  Heir." 


GIULIO   DEI   MEDICI   AND   THE   FLORENTINES.          495 

Frizzi,  put  the  last  touch  to  it.  In  what  this  con- 
sisted, we  know  not.  A  vein  in  the  stone  is  said  to 
have  induced  Michael  Angelo  to  abandon  the  statue. 
The  countenance  is  also  strange,  exhibiting  quite  a 
peculiar  physiognomy  ;  and  the  rich  hair  falls  down 
in  locks  behind.  Standing  dispassionately  before 
the  figure,  we  should  declare  it  to  be  a  St.  John. 


The  years  1519  to  1522  were  reckoned  as  the 
most  prosperous  for  the  city.  At  length,  from  the 
expected  extinction  of  the  family,  there  seemed  a 
prospect  of  a  natural  deliverance  from  the  tyranny 
of  hereditary  rule.  The  cardinal,  when  lie  succeeded 
his  nephew  Lorenzo,  threw  aside  the  monarchical 
form  of  government,  which  had  been  carried  on 
with  sucli  regardless  measures,  and  organized  mat- 
ters again  more  after  the  idea  of  a  despotic  rule.  He 
pleased  all  parties.  He  voluntarily  gave  the  citizens 
back  a  part  of  their  privileges;  there  was  a  rumor  of 
an  ideal  constitution,  which  was  to  be  granted  to  the 
city  immediately ;  and  when,  in  the  year  1521, 
the  French,  who  had  hitherto  been  masters  of  Italy, 
were  defeated,  and  the  fear  of  their  influence  upon 
'  those  citizens  who  were  devising  a  more  violent  path 
to  liberty  had  vanished,  the  severity  of  the  Medi- 
ca?an  rule  subsided  to  a  great  extent. 

The  superiority  of  Francis  I.  had  weighed  heavily 
on  the  pope  since  1515.  Even  at  that  time,  when, 
after  the  victory  of  the  king  at  Marignano,  Leo  was 
obliged  to  put  a  good  face  on  a  bad  game,  and  to 
throw  himself  subserviently  into  his  arms,  he  would 


496  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

rather  have  met  Francis  at  Bologna  than  at  Florence. 
The  presence  of  the  king  in  Tuscany  appeared  to 
him  too  critical,  —  he  had  already  experienced  it 
once.  The  Florentines  knew  this  also  well,  and 
made  the  pope  feel  it  in  spite  of  his  splendid  recep- 
tion. Leo  was  not  at  ease  at  that  time  in  his  faith- 
ful city ;  and  he  feared  for  her  as  long  as  the  French 
had  Italian  policy  in  hand.  But,  since  1519, — when 
Charles  of  Spain  had  been  elected  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many in  spite  of  the  counter-efforts  of  the  King  of 
France,  and  the  immense  territory  of  Spain,  Bur- 
gundy, Germany,  Hungary,  and  Naples,  had  become 
one  united  country  under  his  rule,  —  Leo's  hopes 
turned  to  the  power  thus  newly  rising.  An  alliance 
was  effected  ;  fortune  was  favorable  ;  the  last  tidings 
which  the  pope  received  before  his  death,  was  that 
of  the  defeat  of  the  French.  If  there  were  not  such 
good  grounds  for  believing  that  Leo's  death  was 
caused  by  poison,  we  might  have  ventured  to  assert 
that' he  died  from  excessive  joy. 

Immediately,  however,  the  efforts  of  the  defeated 
to  reconquer  Milan  began.  From  the  day  in  which 
Francis  was  defeated  at  the  imperial  election,  the 
European  history  of  the  next  thirty  years  turns  upon 
the  efforts  of  the  two  rivals  to  prove  to  each  other 
which  was  the  stronger,  and  to  whom  in  truth  the 
direction  of  the  things  of  this  world  belonged. 
Personal  animosity  also  interfered;  and  this  was 
permitted  to  reach  personal  provocation.  Milan, 
however,  formed  the  bone  of  contention ;  and  the 
ascendency  of  Spain  or  France  seemed  apparently 
connected  with  its  possession.  "Whoever  lost  Milai. 


ELECTION  OF  THE  NEW  POPE.        497 

and  Lombardy,  yielded.  All  the  arts  of  policy  and 
•war  were  directed  to  this  object  of  ambition  ;  and  it 
was  a  matter  of  course,  that  the  one  obliged  to 
retreat  would  immediately  attempt  the  utmost  he 
could  do,  to  prepare  the  same  lot  for  the  other.  For 
connected  with  Milan  were  Tuscany  and  Venice 
and  Genoa ;  and  connected  with  Genoa  was  the 
Mediterranean  Sea  and  Naples ;  and  with  these  on 
the  other  side,  again,  Tuscany  and  Venice ;  and  with 
all  these  the  pope,  who,  with  the  caprice  of  fate, 
would  infallibly  incline  towards  him  who  possessed 
in  Milan  the  key  to  all  these  treasures. 

In  1521,  however,  the  French  had  made  especial 
haste  to  recover  their  lost  position.  The  election  of 
the  new  pope  was  too  important.  Two  men  stood 
opposed  to  each  other  among  the  cardinals,  — 
Medici,  the  head  of  the  Spanish-imperial  party ; 
and  Soderini,  the  unwearied  enemy  of  the  Medici  and 
the  friend  of  France.  The  decisive  moment  threat- 
ened to  approach.  Soderini,  and  the  exiled  Flor- 
entines at  the  court  of  Francis  I.,  urged  for  an 
immediate  undertaking  against  the  city  ;  and  when, 
passing  by  the  two  rivals,  the  old  Netherland  ecclesi- 
astic was  elected,  —  who,  as  Bishop  of  Valladolid, 
had  never  dreamed  of  the  dignity  devolving  upon 
him,  —  they  counselled  that  a  blow  should  be  struck 
before  the  latter  should  have  reached  Italy. 

Medici  endeavored  to  hold  his  ground  again?t  the 
threatening  storm  by  the  means  of  which  his  'cun- 
ning mind,  schooled  as  it  was  in  dissimulation,  was 
capable.  Throughout  his  life,  he  had  pursued  the 
interests  of  his  family  by  the  most  intricate  course 


498  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

of  action.  Now,  when  he  had  no  longer  any  at  hig 
side,  he  played  his  part  most  subtlely.  Soderini 
and  France  promised  the  Florentines  the  consiglio 
grande,  that  ideal  to  which  the  citizens  clung  as  the 
Germans  do  to  the  idea  of  their  unity  ;  he  promised 
it  also.  The  clever,  learned  society  of  men,  who, 
meeting  in  the  garden  of  the  Rucellai  as  a  kind  of 
aesthetic  liberal  club,  exerted  their  influence  upon 
passing  affairs  (Macchiavelli  was  one  of  their  prin- 
cipal leaders,  and  Michael  Angelo  also  may  be  reck- 
oned among  them),  Medici  endeavored  to  gain  over 
to  his  side  by  conversations  which  he  had  with  differ 
ent  members  upon  the  development  of  the  Floren- 
tine constitution  into  its  freest  form.  He  invited 
them  to  establish  their  views  in  writing.  No  less 
was  the  confidence  with  which  he  sought  to  fill  the 
adherents  of  Savonarola,  who  still  formed  a  powerful 
party.  The  form  of  the  new  constitution,  and  the 
day  on  which  it  was  to  be  proclaimed,  were  already 
talked  of.  Every  one  cherished  hopes,  the  centre  of 
which  was  the  friendly,  agreeable,  unselfish  cardinal, 
who,  even  if  he  would  gladly  have  intrigued  for  his 
own  family,  now  no  longer  possessed  any ;  who  had 
at  once  after  Leo's  death  given  freedom  to  all  im- 
prisoned citizens,  and  who  now  hesitated  to  come  to 
a  decision,  only  because  he  did  not  seem  to  know 
how  to  make  the  benefit  he  intended  to  confer  on  tho 
city  sufficiently  great  and  excellent. 

Suddenly  a  conspiracy  came  to  light.  The  death 
of  the  cardinal  was  its  object.  Soderini,  who  held 
the  new  pope  in  Rome  completely  in  his  net,  was  its 
originator.  Its  most  dangerous  participators  wero 


PLIGHT   OF   ZANOBI   BUONDELMONTI.  499 

among  those  men  in  the  garden  of  the  Rucellai ; 
for  there  the  dissimulation  was  seen  through  most 
keenly,  and  they  adhered  inviolably  to  Prance.  "With 
regard,  however,  to  Giulio's  dissimulation,  the  exist- 
ence of  Ippolito  and  Alessandro  dei  Medici  need 
only  be  remembered.  The  cardinal,  from  the  first, 
never  thought  of  granting  the  smallest  thing  which 
he  had  promised,  only  because  he  could  not  do  other- 
wise.* 

In  May,  1522,  the  plot  was  discovered.  Some  of 
the  conspirators  saved  themselves  by  flight ;  others 
were  brought  to  trial.  At  the  same  time,  the  cardi- 
nal succeeded  in  ruining  Soderini  at  the  Vatican. 
Adrian  had  him  removed  to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo, 
while  Medici,  entering  amid  the  rejoicing  of  the 
Roman  people,  occupied  from  henceforth  his  place. 
All  necessity  was  now  removed  for  speaking  fair 
words  to  the  Florentines.  There  was  no  more  men- 
tion of  consiglio  grande  and  constitution.  Obedience 
was  demanded. 

It  is  a  pity  that  Nardi,  when  relating  the  escape 
of  the  conspirators,  from  his  method  of  only  some- 
times insinuating  the  men  implicated,  instead  of 
giving  their  names,  leaves  us  in  uncertainty  who 
"  the  very  famous  sculptor"  (scultore  assai  segnalato) 
was,  who  at  that  time  afforded  shelter  to  the  fugitive 
Zanobi  Buondelmonti.f  He  was  just  escaping  from 
the  city  by  the  Porta  a  Pinti  when  the  cardinal  was 
riding  in.  Buondelmonti,  seeing  the  street  blocked 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XCIII. 

t  The  same  person  to  whom  Macchiavelli,  with  Cosimo  Rucellai,  dedi- 
cated his  work  upon  Livy. 


500  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

up,  entered  a  sculptor's  atelier  close  by  the  gate, 
which  the  cardinal  himself,  both  for  the  sake  of  the 
sculptures,  and  for  the  beautiful  garden  in  which 
the  house  stood,  was  in  the  habit  of  frequently  visit- 
ing. This  time  fortunately  he  did  not  do  so ;  and  the 
fugitive  found  tune  to  change  his  clothes,  and  after^ 
wards  to  make  his  escape  in  the  darkness. 

There  were,  besides  Michael  Angelo,  a  number  of 
other  sculptors  in  the  city  by  no  means  unimportant. 
There  was,  for  instance,  Bandinelli ;  but  he  was  at 
that  time  occupied  with  no  work  requiring  an  atelier, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  tliis  one,  even  if  Ban- 
dinelli had  worked  in  marble,  was  filled  with  sculp- 
tures.  Besides  this,  he  is  named  by  Nardi ;  and, 
lastly,  Bandinelli  would  have  had  real  pleasure  in 
giving  Buondelmonti  up  to  the  cardinal.  There 
was  also  Jacopo  Sansovino,  who,  like  Bandinelli, 
had  withdrawn  to  Florence  after  Leo's  death,  when 
the  merry  life  in  Rome  came  to  a  sad  conclusion ; 
but  he,  too,  could  scarcely  have  had  there  an  atelier 
full  of  works.  There  was,  besides,  Benedetto  da 
Rovezzano,  who  had  to  chisel  the  David  of  Michael 
Angelo,  which  the  gonfalonier  Soderini  had  long 
before  sent  to  France,  and  to  whom  subsequently 
one  of  the  apostles  for  the  cathedral  was  assigned, 
when  Michael  Angelo  relinquished  the  task.  But 
his  atelier  lay  in  another  quarter  of  the  city.  Lastly, 
there  were  Tribolo  and  Mino  da  Fiesole.  The  former 
was  still  young,  and  devoted  to  the  cardinal ;  the  lat- 
ter was  old,  and  had  no  great  tasks.  It  seems  that 
Nardi  intended  Michael  Angelo.  The  atelier  was 
that  house  built  especially  for  him,  which  was  to  be- 


JULIUS'S  MAUSOLEUM.  501 

come  his  property  after  the  completion  of  the  apostles, 
but  which  subsequently  belonged  to  the  cathedral,  and 
was  let  by  it.  It  was  close  to  the  Porta  a  Pinti,  oppo- 
site the  old  Cistercian  monastery.  It  is  possible  that 
Michael  Angelo,  who  had  hired  it  once  before,  was 
now  again  working  there.  One  thing  is  certain,  — 
that  he  was  a  friend  of  the  conspirators.  The  name 
of  one  of  them,  Luigi  Alamanni,  stands  with  his  own 
under  the  petition  to  Leo  respecting  Dante's  remains. 
Nardi's,  too,  is  there ;  and  he  knew  perhaps  more 
of  the  conspiracy  than  he  states  in  his  book.  And 
therefore  it  was  incumbent  on  him  not  to  mention 
Michael  Angelo's  name ;  for  he  generally  allows  this 
kind  of  circumlocution  to  occur  when  men  friendly 
to  him  are  concerned. 

No  other,  too,  would  have  had  the  courage  thus 
to  receive  Buondelmonti,  and  to  make  himself  an 
accessory  in  opposing  the  law.  And,  lastly,  perhaps 
Michael  Angelo  alone  merits  the  designation,  "  very 
famous,"  which  Nardi  lavishes  but  sparingly.  Yet 
these  are  only  suppositions.  The  matter,  however, 
has  been  in  no  wise  cleared  up. 

9. 

However  glad  Michael  Angelo  may  have  been  to 
be  able  to  carry  on  the  completion  of  the  mausoleum, 
free  from  all  pressing  work,  he  yet  felt  himself,  after 
some  time,  induced  by  other  reasons  to  advance  in 
the  further  building  of  the  sacristy.  As  he  always 
worked  too  slowly  for  his  employers,  it  now  seemed 
to  Julius's  heirs  that  he  was  not  advancing  suffi- 
ciently rapidly.  They  had  been  obliged  to  draw 


502  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

back  in  the  year  1516,  when  the  pope  had  ordered 
the  building  of  the  fagade:  they  had  not  ventured 
to  complain  to  Leo,  although  this  work  had  soon 
appeared  completely  to  occupy  Michael  Angelo ;  for 
the  pope,  after  having  deprived  them,  with  such 
regardless  injustice,  of  their  dukedom  of  Urbino, 
would  not  truly  have  troubled  himself  about  such 
complaints.  They  sent  a  private  reminder  to  Mi- 
cnael  Angelo  in  Florence.  He  led  their  messenger 
into  his  atelier,  and  showed  him  what  was  already 
completed.  When  he  now,  however,  undertook  the 
sacristy,  with  the  monuments  of  the  Medici,  this 
seemed  too  much  to  the  Rovere.  They  had  returned 
to  Urbino  after  Leo's  death,  and  had  again  assumed 
their  old  powerful  position ;  they  now  represented 
the  matter  to  Pope  Adrian,  and  demanded  that  the 
mausoleum  should  be  completed  by  Michael  Angelo, 
or  the  money  that  had  been  received  should  be 
given  up. 

At  the  time,  however,  in  which  this  happened, 
Cardinal  Medici  had  turned  his  thoughts  again  to 
the  new  work,  due  to  the  honor  of  his  family,  and  a 
duty  of  gratitude  towards  those  to  whom  the  monu- 
ments in  the  sacristy  were  to  be  erected.  He  may 
have  been  impelled  also  to  come  to  a  decision  upon 
what  was  to  be  done,  by  the  arrival  of  the  blocks 
from  Carrara,  —  those  blocks,  one  of  which  at  least 
was  intended  for  the  statue  of  the  Virgin,  and  was 
to  have  arrived  at  Florence  at  the  end  of  1522.  The 
cardinal  was  in  Rome.  Michael  Angelo  addressed 
a  letter  to  one  of  the  gentlemen  in  his  suite,  in  which 
he  made  known  his  wishes.  Above  all,  he  desired 


DEATH   OF    ADRIAN   VI.  503 

that  the  command  issued  by  the  pope,  that  either 
Julius's  monument  was  to  be  completed,  or  the 
money  refunded  to  the  Rovere,  should  be  withdrawn. 
He  never  wished  to  discontinue  the  mausoleum ;  for 
it  had  never  come  into  his  mind  to  break  engage- 
ments once  entered  into :  but  the  new  work  attracted 
him,  and  both  could  not  be  carried  on  at  once.  For 
this  reason,  he  concluded,  even  if  the  cardinal  did 
not  succeed  in  setting  him  at  liberty,  he  would  nev- 
ertheless do  justice  to  his  orders,  besides  attending 
to  that  at  which  he  was  compelled  to  work.  Still, 
he  should  prefer  if  the  former  could  be  effected. 

The  death  of  Adrian  put  an  end  to  this  uncertain- 
ty. He  was  not  a  year  in  the  Vatican.  Misunder- 
stood in  his  citizen-like  simplicity,  and  in  the  good 
will  which  he  endeavored  to  manifest  on  all  sides ; 
ignorant  of  what  was  acceptable  in  the  city,  where 
he  ought  to  have  been  the  centre  of  every  intellec- 
tual movement;  not  even  able  to  converse  with 
many  of  the  cardinals,  because  they  knew  no  Latin, 
while  to  him  Italian  was  foreign,  —  he  died  unla- 
mented,  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  those  who  belonged 
to  the  papal  court.  Nowhere  could  he  have  suited 
Jess  than  Rome.  At  his  entry,  he  had  forbidden 
triumphal  arches,  as  heathenish  marks  of  honor. 
He  shut  up  the  valuable  collection  of  antique  statues 
in  the  Belvedere :  all  the  doors  except  one,  of  which 
he  kept  the  key,  were  walled  up.  He  wished  to  pull 
down  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  because 
naked  figures  did  not  suit  a  church.  He  brought 
with  him  from  his  home  one  old  servant,  to  whom 
he  daily  gave  a  piece  of  gold  to  defray  the  expenses 


504  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

of  .the  house.  His  relatives,  who  came  in  hopes  of 
booty,  were  sent  home  again  with  a  moderate  sum 
of  money  for  their  journey.  The  portraits  which 
were  to  be  taken  of  him  were  given  to  a  young 
painter  from  Flanders,  whom  he  had  with  him,  and 
who  worked  in  the  Yatican.  Still  Sebastian  del 
Piombo  also  had  the  honor  of  being  allowed  to  take 
a  portrait  of  him.  The  pupils  of  Raphael,  however, 
and  the  great  crowd  of  artists,  sat  there  like  butter- 
flies in  a  shower  of  rain.  A  panic  of  terror  seized 
them:  following  the  example  of  Giulio  Romano, 
they  left  the  city,  and  dispersed  in  all  directions 
through  Italy.  It  seemed  as  if  with  one  blow  an 
end  had  been  put  to  the  old  Roman  life.  And  so  it 
was.  For  although,  after  Adrian's  death,  things 
outwardly  flourished  again,  the  sun  never  beamed 
again  with  its  old  glory,  and  the  fruits  which  it 
ripened  were  not  so  sweet.  A  new  epoch  began. 
Adrian's  short  rule  passed  like  a  prophetic  index  of 
the  events  which,  in  full  and  slow  succession,  grad- 
ually prepared  a  mournful  end  for  both  art  and 
liberty. 

In  the  obstinate  disputes  that  now  followed,  Me- 
dici was  victorious.  Soderini  had  at  first  so  much 
the  advantage  of  him,  that  wagers  were  laid  upon  his 
success ;  but  at  last  he  yielded  to  the  stronger.  In 
November,  1523,  the  election  took  place.  As  at 
Leo's  elevation,  Florence  overflowed  with  marks  of 
joy.  Michael  Angelo,  too,  had  cause  to  be  contented. 
"  My  dear  master  Domenico,"  —  he' writes  to  his  old 
friend  Topolino  in  Carrara,  —  "The  bearer  of  this 
is  Bernardino  da  Pierbasso,  whom  I  am  sending  to 


STATUES   OF   THE   TWO   MEDICI.  505 

Carrara  for  some  blocks  which  I  require.  Be  so 
good  as  to  direct  him  where  he  may  obtain  his  object 
best  and  quickest.  No  more  at  present.  You  will 
have  heard  that  Medici  has  been  made  pope.  Every 
one  is  delighted  at  it ;  and  to  me,  too,  it  seems  as  if 
there  would  now  be  fresh  orders.  Therefore  serve 
me  now  well  and  honestly,  so  that  it  may  tend  to 
his  honor."  Michael  Angelo  perhaps  knew  even  at 
that  time  more  than  he  communicated  to  Topolino  ; 
for,  immediately  after  the  election  of  Medici,  the 
building  of  the  sacristy  was  not  only  resumed  afresh, 
but  a  new  task  was  resolved  upon  in  the  erection  of 
the  library  of  San  Lorenzo.  As  regards  time,  this 
exactly  coincides  with  the  period  when  the  rest  of 
the  blocks  arrived  from  Carrara.  Michael  Angelo 
received  a  monthly  salary  of  fifty  ducats,  and  began 
the  two  statues  of  the  Dukes  of  Nemours  and  Urbi- 
no,  which  belong  to  the  noblest  monuments  that  the 
art  of  sculpture  has  produced. 

Surveying  with  my  mind's  eye  all  the  sculptured 
portraits  that  I  know,  I  find  these  two  figures  sur- 
passed by  none.  What  they  lack  perhaps  in  sim- 
plicity is  made  amends  for  by  the  dignity  of  their 
appearance.  If  I  think  of  that  Greek  statue  of 
Sophocles  in  the  Lateran  Museum,  placed  between 
the  seated  heroes,  —  and  this  is  always  the  utmost 
test,  —  they  would  become  a  little  poor,  and  their 
magnificent  aspect  would  lose  some  of  its  natural 
grace,  somewhat  as  one  of  the  Hohenstauffen  empe- 
rors would  appear  contrasted  with  Alexander  the 
Great ;  but  this  difference  may  be  defended  as  natu- 
ral and  necessary.  For  the  two  Medici  were  neither 

VOL.   I  22 


506  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

sons  of  the  gods  nor  heroes.  Michael  Angelo  has 
raised  them  as  high  as  they  could  be  raised ;  and,  by 
thus  representing  the  offspring  of  his  old  patron 
Lorenzo  and  his  brother,  he  requited  in  a  manner 
more  than  regal  all  the  benefits  he  had  received  in 
their  house.  The  whole  family  gained  by  these 
statues  an  appearance  of  mighty  princeliness  and 
nobility,  higher  than  could  be  procured  for  them, 
either  by  their  own  deeds  or  in  connection  with  the 
houses  of  emperors  and  kings. 

A  proof  of  how  little  remains  of  the  remem- 
brance of  what  Lorenzo  and  Giuliano  were  in  their 
life,  and  how  their  reputation  at  the  present  day 
lies  in  the  work  of  Michael  Angelo  alone,  is  seen  in 
the  change  of  the  names  of  these  statues,  which  has 
lasted  up  to  our  own  day.  For,  though  attention 
may  have  been  occasionally  drawn  to  the  fact,  —  of 
which,  however,  I  am' not  aware,  —  the  correction 
certainly  is  not  universal,  and  the  false  designations 
remain  attached.  Lorenzo,  the  arrogant,  warlike 
Duke  of  Urbino,  is  called  by  Vasari  "  the  man 
absorbed  in  reflection,"  —  the  portrait  of  his  mel- 
ancholy, sadly  fated  uncle  Giuliano  having  been 
referred  to  him;  while  the  latter,  made  into  the 
"  bold,  proud "  Lorenzo,  has  been  looked  upon 
hitherto  under  the  form  of  his  nephew. 

The  marble  statues,  as  they  stand  opposite  each 
other  at  the  present  day  in  the  sacristy  of  San 
Lorenzo,  form  the  contrast  of  brooding  reflection, 
and  of  resolve  rising  into  action.  Both  are  in 
repose.  But  Lorenzo  sits  there  like  a  general  on 
the  summit  of  a  hill,  from  whence  he  is  looking 


STATUE   OF   LORENZO    DEI   MEDICI.  507 

down  on  his  fighting  soldiers,  and  hearing  the  noise 
of  the  battle ;  while  Giuliano,  deaf  to  what  is  hap- 
pening around  him,  seems  brooding  ceaselessly  over 
his  thoughts. 

Lorenzo  was  brave,  as  his  father  Piero  had  been. 
He  led  in  person  the  assault  on  Monteleone,  when 
he  took  by  force  the  dukedom  from  the  Duke  of 
Urbino,  the  title  of  which  had  been  given  him  by 
the  pope.  He  appears  in  the  dress  of  a  Roman 
general  of  the  time  of  the  emperors ;  the  ornaments 
of  his  armor  are  rich,  and  executed  with  careful 
neatness.  The  right  foot  is  stepping  forwards,  so 
that  the  knee  stands  prominently  out ;  the  left  is 
behind,  under  the  seat,  so  that  the  knee,  with  the 
leg  bent,  lies  lower  than  the  other, — just  the  atti- 
tude for  rising  steadily  with  a  start  as  soon  as 
necessary.  Across  his  lap  is  placed  a  heavy  baton, 
one  end  of  which  —  the  right  knee  being  higher  — 
extends  upwards  over  the  leg.  Upon  this  part  of 
the  staff  his  hand  rests,  or  (we  should  rather  say, 
although  it  is  the  hand  of  a  man)  it  is  moulded 
there,  —  with  such  indescribable  grace  has  Michael 
Angelo  represented  it.  This  hand,  and  the  other 
lying  on  the  other  end  of  the  staff  still  more  careless 
in  attitude,  with  the  back  touching  it,  and  without 
any  intention  of  grasping  it,  or  of  doing  any  thing 
indicating  a  will,  are  the  two  most  beautiful  human 
hands  which  I  know  in  the  whole  realm  of  sculp- 
ture. In  the  body  of  Christ,  lying  on  his  mother's 
lap,  the  hands  are  incomparably  tender  and  ex- 
pressive ;  and,  if  any  doubt  could  arise  respecting 
the  Madonna  at  Bruges,  her  hands  also  indicate  the 


508  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGE10. 

only  hands  which  would  have  been  able  to  form 
them.  Nothing  makes  us  so  thoroughly  certain  at 
the  first  glance  of  the  stage  at  which  an  artist 
stands,  than  his  manner  of  forming  the  hands.* 

That  which,  however,  stamps  the  figure  of  the 
Duke  of  Urbino  —  which  is,  as  it  were,  its  token  — 
is  the  throat  rising  from  the  square,  richly  orna- 
mented opening  of  the  coat  of  mail,  which  fits 
closely  to  the  breast  and  shoulders,  —  power  and 
pride  are  expressed  in  its  movement.  Once  more 
casting  a  glance  at  the  entire  figure,  we  see  all  the 
good  and  the  noble  that  lay  in  Lorenzo's  character, 
—  his  valor,  his  hope  of  conquering  the  Italian 
States  into  a  kingdom  for  himself,  —  this  statue  con- 
tains it  all ;  and  whoever  contemplates  it,  and  after- 
wards reflects  upon  the  man  himself  in  his  various 
fates,  will  most  easily  solve  the  question,  What  is 
to  be  understood  by  idealizing  a  person  ?  An  artist 
who  wishes  to  produce  the  ideal  of  a  man,  takes 
hold  of  the  enduring  value  he  possesses,  adds  to  it 
what  he  himself  is  as  a  man  and  an  artist,  and  out 
of  this  forms  a  new  creation. 

We  have  no  portrait  with  which  to  compare  the 
resemblance  of  the  features.  Raphael  painted  the 
duke ;  but  the  picture  is  lost.  However,  in  both 
statues,  Michael  Angelo  has  himself  confessed,  that 
he  has  but  little  adhered  to  nature.  "  Who  would 
wish  to  appear  a  thousand  years  hence  to  prove  that 
the  dukes  had  looked  otherwise  ? "  he  answered, 
when  reproached  with  the  want  of  resemblance.  He 
had  never  worked  at  portraits,  except  in  occasional 

*  See  Appendix,  Note  XCIV. 


GIULIANO   DEI  MEDICI,  DUKE  OF  NEMOURS.          509 

drawings,  and  these  can  only  be  considered  as  studies. 
The  individual  form  of  a  man  seemed  to  him  not 
sufficiently  comprehensive  to  express  that  which  a 
work  must  contain  to  entice  him  to  finish  it.  And 
so,  while  he  exhibited  the  whole  figure  on  a  higher 
scale,  he  formed  the  head  also  independently  of  the 
individual  features,  as  a  part  of  his  newly  created 
man. 

In  Giuliano,  the  last  working-up  of  the  face  is 
wanting.  "While  Lorenzo's  aspiring  head  appears 
uncovered,  Giuliano  wears  a  helmet  of  an  antique 
form,  corresponding  with  the  Roman  armor  cover- 
ing his  figure.  This,  however,  is  without  ornament. 
The  whole  figure  has  something  in  it  weighty  and 
reposing.  The  left  elbow  leans  upon  the  low  pro- 
jecting arm  of  the  chair ;  and,  with  the  forefinger 
slightly  bent  and  stretched  out,  he  touches  his  lips 
as  if  his  drooping  head  rested  gently  upon  it.  The 
other  arm  is  placed  on  the  leg  with  the  back  of 
the  curved  hand,  so  that  the  elbow  is  turned  out ; 
the  leg,  however,  from  the  knee  downwards,  crosses 
over  to  the  other  side,  so  that  the  feet,  drawn  a  little 
under  the  chair,  stand  close  together,  one  behind  the 
other.  The  knees  are  bare,  as  with  Lorenzo;  and 
the  short  shirt  of  mail,  hung  with  strips  and  tassels, 
falls  heavily  down  between  them  across  his  lap. 

Michael  Angelo,  whose  overflowing  nature  sought 
an  outlet  in  one  manner  or  another  in  each  of  his 
works,  knew  how,  in  representing  repose,  to  elevate 
it  into  a  state  of  infinite  duration,  just  in  the  same 
way  as  he  understood  how  to  raise  the  action  of  a 
figure  into  bursting  vehemence.  The  sibyls  and 


510  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

prophets  exhibit  this  in  his  paintings ;  Giuliano's 
statue,  in  his  sculptures.  Yet  the  figure  of  the  Duke 
of  Nemours  expresses  something  utterly  different  to 
the  colossal  men  and  women  of  the  Sistine  Chapel. 
There,  investigating  reflection  was  represented,  every 
thought  flowing  towards  one  point,  —  the  highest 
contemplative  work.  In  Giuliano  the  thoughts  are 
divided ;  the  mind  is  absorbed  in  an  indefinite  feeling, 
just  as  if  he  intended  to  show  that  death  was  a 
deliverance  for  him  from  long  sad  sickness.  He  sits 
as  if  he  had  gradually  turned  to  stone.  He  lived 
under  circumstances  which  compelled  him  sometimes 
to  come  forward  valiantly  ;  he  was  obliged  to  exert 
himself  for  his  family,  to  stand  his  ground.  The 
marriage  journey  to  France  was  the  last  thing  he 
was  able  to  do  to  augment  Medicsean  splendor.  But 
he  carried  the  seeds  of  death  within  him.  A  longing 
for  repose,  and  that  strange  hopelessness  which  is 
given  to  many  characters  as  a  sad  gift  of  nature, 
were  peculiar  to  him.  "  It  is  not  cowardice,  nor 
does  it  spring  from  cowardice,  if,  to  escape  whatever 
terrible  things  were  in  store  for  me,  I  hated  my  own 
life,  and  longed  for  an  end."  This  is  the  first  verse 
of  liis  sonnet  in  defence  of  suicide,  insignificant  as  a 
poem,  but  still  obtaining  higher  value  here,  because 
it  is  the  only  expression  remaining  to  us  of  a  mind, 
at  the  loss  of  which,  on  his  death,  friends  and  foes 
lamented,  and  which  would  have  been  long  ago  for- 
gotten, but  for  Michael  Angelo. 

The  fate  of  Florence  was  linked  to  the  sons  of  the 
two  dukes  after  their  death.  Both  were  illegitimate 
children ;  for,  from  their  royal  consorts,  Giuliano 


IPPOLITO   AND   ALESSANDRO.  511 

had  no  descendants,  and  Lorenzo  only  a  daughter. 
Ippolito,  the  elder,  was  the  son  of  a  noble  lady  in 
Urbino,  at  the  time  when  Giuliano  lived  there  as  an 
exile ;  Alexander's  mother,  on  the  contrary,  was  of 
obscure  origin,  a  mulatto  slave  belonging  to  the 
palace,  who  was  even  unable  to  declare,  whether 
Lorenzo,  or  a  groom,  or  the  Cardinal  dei  Medici 
himself,  was  the  father  of  the  child.  Both,  however, 
were  of  superior  nature,  and  similar  in  character  to 
those  to  whom  they  owed  their  existence.  It  was 
enough  for  the  pope  that  they  existed,  come  from 
whom  they  would. 

When  Leo  X.  made  Cardinal  Giulio  dei  Medici 
regent  in  Florence,  the  boys  were  still  too  young  to 
play  a  part  there  themselves.  It  had  long,  however, 
been  manifest  at  the  Vatican,  that  Ippolito  would 
one  day  obtain  a  sovereignty  of  his  own;  and  his 
future  was  a  standing  article  in  the  secret  negotia- 
tions with  Spain  and  France.  Politicians  in  Flor- 
ence did  not  at  first  see  so  far;  but  they  too  were 
soon  to  be  enlightened. 

In  the  spring  of  1524,  the  Cardinal  of  Cortona 
made  his  entry  as  regent  and  representative  of  the 
pope;  and,  two  months  after,  he  was  followed  by 
the  two  in  whose  name  he  henceforth  ruled  the  city. 
Ippolito  and  Alessandro  —  the  latter  still  a  boy,  the 
former,  however,  a  youth  of  fourteen — were  declared 
by  the  citizens  capable  of  holding  the  highest  offices 
of  the  state.  Alessandro  was  subsequently  to  become 
a  cardinal;  Ippolito  was  to  marry  Caterina,  the  sur- 
viving daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Urbino,  upon  whom 
at  a  future  day  the  half  of  the  Medicaean  property 


5.12  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

was  to  devolve,  and  who  at  that  time  was  still  very 
young.  Ippolito  was  secretly  destined  to  take  up 
subsequently  the  part  which  Lorenzo  had  been  pre- 
vented by  death  from  playing  to  the  end. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  in  Florence,  when 
Michael  Angelo  was  working  at  the  statues  of  Lor 
enzo  and  Giuliano. 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


PRELIMINARY    REMARKS. 


THE  following  annotations  contain,  in  the  first  place,  whatever 
is  furnished  from  unpublished  sources ;  and,  in  the  second, 
whatever  I  owe  to  modern  works  on  art  and  history ;  and,  in 
the  third  place,  considerations  and  explanations,  not  suitable 
for  insertion  in  the  work  itself.  I  could  only  point  out,  in  a 
few  instances,  where  my  statements  are  opposed  to  the  other 
modern  treatments  of  the  life  of  Michael  Angelo ;  for  the  false 
data  are  too  numerous  for  me  to  pay  regard  to  them  all.  I 
have  modernized,  with  some  few  exceptions,  the  style  of  the 
Italian  extracts  from  manuscripts  (I  must  ask  indulgence  for 
occasional  errors) ;  and  in  this  I  have  believed  myself  acting  a 
useful  part,  as  the  purport  is  here  alone  necessary,  and  the 
original  style  of  writing  must  have  been  inconvenient  to  many. 
With  regard  to  the  method  pursued  in  the  translations  inter- 
spersed, I  have  considered  it  more  important  to  give  the 
general  sense,  than  to  translate  the  Italian,  word  for  word, 
into  English. 

In  translations  into  English,  a  choice  always  lies  between 
these  two  methods.  There  are  foreign  authors  whose  style 
appears  so  na'ive  and  artless,  that  we  should  lose  its  peculiar 
charm  in  deviating  from  it.  Homer,  Herodotus,  or  Boccaccio, 
all  authors  in  general  writing  in  a  dialect  or  catching  the 
sound  of  the  dialect,  belong  to  this  class.  When  an  author, 
however,  uses  the  language  in  its  perfection,  as  Sophocles, 
Cicero,  or  Macchiavelli  have  done  theirs,  his  words  can  only  be 
exchanged  for  what  is  most  perfect  in  our  own.  To  wish  to 
imitate  such  men  in  our  own  tongue,  must  inevitably  lead 
to  the  error  of  supposing  them  somewhat  singular  in  their 
own  language.  And  this  is  also  the  case,  where  communica- 

[515] 


516  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL  ANUELO. 


tions  are  concerned,  in  which  it  is  only  requisite  to  make  them 
as  plain  as  possible.  To  this  category  belong  writings  like 
Michael  Angelo's  letters.  They  give  us,  it  is  true,  an  idea  of 
dialect ;  but,  if  we  were  to  translate  them  word  for  word,  they 
would  acquire  a  natural  awkwardness,  neither  belonging  to 
him  nor  to  his  age.  Any  one  else  would  at  that  time  have 
written  similarly. 

That,  in  a  translation,  poems  must  suffer  more  important 
alterations  than  any  thing  else,  is  a  matter  of  course.  To 
translate  a  poem  well  is  to  take  it  in  itself,  and  to  place  an 
English  one  in  its  stead.  Metre  and  style  of  composition  may, 
in  so  doing,  be  altered  according  to  circumstances, — words 
omitted  or  others  added,  and  images  exchanged  for  others. 
How  this  is  to  be  done  must  be  left  to  the  judgment  of  him 
who  undertakes  it.  The  translation  of  a  poem  must  always 
aim  at  pleasing  as  an  independent  work.  Those  who  know  the 
original  will  never  declare  themselves  satisfied  with  it. 

1  have,  therefore,  just  as  the  idea  of  the  poem  seemed  to 
require  it,  given  madrigals  in  rhyming  or  not  rhyming  iambics  ; 
once  even  I  have  transformed  a  madrigal  into  a  sonnet.  In 
the  sonnets,  I  have  often  given  up  the  strict  form ;  and  the  ter- 
zine  on  the  death  of  his  father  I  have  treated  in  a  metre  which 
must  be  read  like  prose,  and  which  I  have  chosen  only  because 
it  forced  itself  involuntarily  upon  me.  It  is  a  sort  of  metrical 
prose,  allowing  every  liberty,  and  still  capable  of  being  con- 
densed and  kept  tolerably  equal. 

We  have  yet  to  add,  that,  for  those  who  wish  to  become 
acquainted  with  Michael  Angelo's  life  by  looking  into  the 
sources  for  themselves,  the  Lemonnier  edition  of  Vasari  is 
indispensable.  A  great  part  of  the  scientific  matter  is  gath- 
ered together  there.  For  a  first  acquaintance  with  Rome, 
Murray's  Handbook  is  the  best  and  most  certain  guide,  un- 
rivalled by  any  other  work  of  a  similar  kind.  (It  is  the  same 
with  regard  to  Florence  and  the  rest  of  Italy.)  Most  of 
Michael  Angelo's  works  are  now  to  be  had  in  good  photo- 
graphs. This  is  especially  important  with  regard  to  sketches, 
the  greater  number  of  which  are  in  this  manner  made  accessi- 
ble. '  In  the  sculptures,  however,  it  is  necessary  to  see  whether 
the  photographs  are  taken  from  the  originals  or  only  from 
plaster  casts. 

I.  —  PAGE  36. 

Cf.  Brunn,  Gesch.  der  Griech. :  Kiinstler,  i.  366. — Loren- 
zetti's  death  was  supposed  to  have  been  much  earlier ;  but  no 
other  war  can  be  intended  than  that  of  1390.  The  spring  ig 
the  famous  Fonte  Gaya,  the  work  of  Jacopo  della  Quercia. 


APPENDIX.  517 


H.  —  PAGE  53. 

Exposition  Universclle  <le  1851.  Travaux  de  la  Commission 
Franchise,  torn.  viii.  (Beaux  Arts,  par  M.  le  Comte  de  La- 
bordc),  page  49.  Definition  of  the  Year  1303:  "  Ce  qui  est 
pour  Teglise  et  pour  le  roi  est  de  1'art,  disait-on  ;  le  reste  ap- 
partient  au  metier  et  subit  ses  charges,  impots  et  prestations." 

III.  —  PAGE  82. 
See  observations  of  Gori  to  Condivi. 

• 

IV.  — PAGE  83. 

The  list  of  the  contents  of  the  Buonarroti  papers  (still 
lying  inaccessible  in  Florence),  given  in  the  Archivio  Storico, 
mentions  the  letter.  Harford  has  seen  it.  See  his  Life  of 
Michael  Angelo,  i.  21  (2d  edit.). 

V.  —  PAGE  89. 

The  editors  of  the  Lemonnier  Vasari  (Firenze,  i.-xiii.)  did 
not  know  the  name  of  the  family.  The  design  is  in  the  Cata- 
logo  delle  Pitture  e  Sculture  possedute  della  Famiglia  Bianconi, 
1854.  It  is  there  said,  that  the  painting  has  been  mentioned 
in  the  Guida  di  Bassano  (1816),  p.  104.  I  have  not  seen  it, 
nor  the  Parisian  one  either. 

VI.  —  PAGE  90. 

A  third  of  the  praise  which  the  companion  of  a  great  mastei 
gains  by  his  own  work,  must  be  given  to  the  master,  says 
Benvenuto  Cellini. 

VII.  —  PAGE  158. 

Condivi,  xvii  "  Stettc  con  Messer  Gianfrancesco  Aldov- 
randi  piii  d'un  anno."  The  error  was  natural,  as  this  period 
lay  far  in  the  past  when  Michael  Angelo  communicated  his 
history  to  Condivi. 

VIII.  —PAGE  162. 

The  best  original  is  Vas.,  xii.  339.  It  is  addressed  Mco. 
Lorenzo.  "  Magnifico  "  was  at  that  time  a  general  title,  borne 
certainly  by  some  men  par  excellence,  without  the  meaning  of 
the  word  necessarily  expressing  an  especial  attribute  of  char- 


518  LIFE    OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

aeter.  The  name  "Lorenzo  the  Magnificent"  thus  see'ms  to 
have  sprung  from  the  ideas  of  a  later  period.  Soderini,  too, 
the  gonfalonier,  retained  the  epithet  magnifico  when  he  lived 
subsequently  in  Rome. 

With  regard  to  the  version  in  the  artists'  letters  given  by 
Guhl,  the  following  expressions  —  "solo  per  avvisarmi ;  non 
altro  per  questa ;  a  voi  mi  raccomando  Dio  di  male  di  guardi " 
—  are  general  phrases  in  the  letters  of  that  day.  "  Uno  pezzo 
di  marmo "  is  the  usual  expression  for  that  which  we  call  a 
"  block."  Cond.  xxi.,  "  Un  pezzo  di  marmo  d'altezza  di  brac- 
cia  nove ; "  and  thus  in  innumerable  instances. 

Above  the  letter  stands  XpJ.  It  has  been  endeavored  to 
druw  conclusions  from  this  respecting  Michael  Angelo's  con- 
nection with  Savonarola ;  but  similar  superscriptions  may  be 
met  with  both  before  and  after  Savonarola's  times.  Cf.  Gior- 
nale  Storico  degli  archivi  Toscani,  iii.  67,  —  a  letter  from  An- 
drea Graccialoti  to  Lorenzo  dei  Medici  in  the  year  1478 

IX.  — PACK  166. 

A  medal  of  the  pope  gives  the  picture  of  the  Castle  of  St.  An- 
gelo,  with  the  standard  of  the  Borgia  floating  on  the  towers. 

X.  — PAGE  170. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  medals  in  the  Friedland  collection 
at  Berlin  represents  Lucrezia  as  duchess,  with  long  waving 
hair.  On  the  back  there  is  a  strange  allegory,  —  Cupid  chained 
by  both  arms,  with  bis  back  to  a  tree,  from  the  branches  of 
which  there  hang  down  broken  stringed  instruments  and  a  bow 
and  quiver,  the  Tatter  with  the  arrows  falling  out  Round  it 
are  the  words,  "  Virtuti  ac  Formae  Pudicitia  pretiosissimum." 
Stamped  on  it  are  the  hitherto  unexplained  initials,  —  F.  (E.  ?) 
PHFF.  The  representation,  as  regards  the  drawing,  belongs 
to  the  most  charming  things  I  know.  (Filippus  Philippi  Filius 
fecit?  Filippino  Lippi,  however,  is  not  known  as  a  stamp- 
<  utter.) 

XL  — PAGE  173. 
The  three  are  thus  placed  together  in  the  Cortigiano. 

XH.  —  PAGE  173. 
Vas.,  iv.  202. 

XIII.  —  PAGE  176. 

Gaye's  Carteggio  affords  interesting  documents  respecting 
the  further  fate  of  the  statue.  What  Vasari  says  of  the  matter 
is  worthless.  The  Cupid  is  not  in  existence  at  the  present  day. 


APPENDIX.  519 


XIV.  — PAGE  177. 

Brainante  was  among  those  who  directed  the  building  of  the 
palace.  May  not  his  antagonism  to  Michael  Angelo  have  been 
at  work  even  here  ?  Still  we  must  be  cautious  in  raising  such 
suppositions. 

XV. —PAGE  180. 

Is  this  the  same  ' '  half-finished  painting,  a  tempera  formerly 
in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Day  in  Rome,  now  in  England,"  of 
which  Rumohr  speaks  ?  (Ital.  F.  iii.  96.)  There  was  a  doubt  in 
England  whether  it  was  a  Michael  Angelo.  The  details  are 
in  Harford's  book. 

XVI.  —  PAGE  181. 

The  statue  of  Callistratus  (cap.  viii.)  certainly  agrees  in 
many  points  with  this  Bacchus.  The  supposition,  however, 
that  Michael  Angelo  knew  the  book,  does  not,  on  this  account, 
appear  more  probable. 

XVH.  —  PAGE  183. 

The  cast  of  the  Pieta,  in  the  New  Museum  at  Berlin,  is  in- 
complete and  badly  placed.  A  cast  of  the  Moses  is  unhappily 
still  wanting,  though  it  would  be  easy  to  procure. 

XVHI.  —  PAGE  185. 

There  is  an  appropriation  of  the  thoughts  of  others,  which  is 
just  as  natural  as  it  is  necessary.  There  are  materials  floating 
all  round,  of  which  artists  take  possession  without  inquiring 
whence  they  come.  When  Handel  transformed  a  street  song 
into  a  striking  air,  and  Corneille  produced  his  Cid  from  a 
Spanish  drama,  which,  pretty  as  it  is  in  itself,  can  only  be 
styled  moderate,  they  were  neither  of  them  plagiarists,  and 
their  creations  were  no  less  original  than  if  they  had  sprung 
entirely  from  their  own  imaginations.  (Signorelli's  statue, 
mentioned  in  the  corresponding  note  in  the  first  edition,  has, 
according  to  the  photograph  of  it,  only  a  very  remote  resem- 
blance with  Michael  Angelo's  Pieta.) 

XIX.  — PAGE  190. 

The  bell  of  San  Marco  is  called  La  Piagnona.  Cf.  Vincenzo 
Marchese,  San  Marco,  157.  Is  this  the  origin  of  the  name  ? 


520  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


XX.  — PAGES  214  and  216. 

Giornale  Storico  degli  Archivi  Toscani,  1859,  I.  Nuov  Do- 
cument! concernenti  a  Frate  Girolamo  Savonarola.  Villari's 
new  book  reached  me,  unfortunately,  too  late.  It  furnishes 
a  number  of  new  and  very  valuable  documents.  Perrens' 
much-praised  prize-essay  is  a  very  insignificant  work. 


XXL  — PAGE  218. 

Macchiavelli  is  among  those,  who,  after  those  stormy  days, 
was  excluded  from  the  general  amnesty,  and  was  sentenced  to 
a  fine.  This  can  scarcely  have  been  because  he  was  an  adhe- 
rent of  Savonarola's ;  for  this  did  not  accord  with  the  spirit  of 
the  letter.  Either,  therefore,  this  is  not  genuine,  or  Macchia- 
velli belonged  to  the  Compagnacci,  and  indeed  to  those  of  the 
extreme  party. 

*  XXL— PAGE  224. 

The  two  passages  to  be  compared  are  the  following :  Cond. 
xii.  "  Gettd  anco  di  bronzo  una  Madonna  col  suo  Figliuolino 
in  grembo ;  la  quale  da  certi  mercanti  Fiandresi  de1  Moscheroni, 
famiglia  nobihssima  in  casa  sua,  pagatagli  ducati  cento,  fu 
mandata  in  Fiandra."  And  —  Vas.  xii.  176.  "Fece  ancora 
di  bronzo  una  Nostra  Donna  in  un  tondo,  che  lo  gettd  di 
bronzo  a  requisizione  di  certi  mercatanti  Fiandresi  de'  Mosche- 
roni, persone  nobilissime  ne'  paesi  loro,  che  pagatogli  scudi 
cento,  la  mandassero  in  Fiandra."  We  cannot  but  observe 
how  delicately,  and  at  the  same  time  how  clumsily,  Vasari 
knows  how  to  change  or  transpose  Condivi's  words.  He  leaves 
the  child  out;  instead  of  "  in  casa  sua,"  he  inserts  "ne'  paesi 
loro;"  instead  of  "ducati,"  he  uses  "scudi;"  and  still  the 
sentence  is  the  same. 

_  As  regards  Bruges,  I  may  quote  Description  historique  de 
i'Eglise  collegiale  et  paroissale  de  Notre  Dame  k  Bruges,  par 
Beaucourt  de  Nortvelde.  Bruges,  1773,  p.  52.  "  M.  Pierre 
Moscron,  Licentie"  esdroit  et  grefSer  de  cette  ville,  donna  cettt: 
pre*cieuse  piece  a  cette  Eglise  hnmediatement  apre's  qu'il  avail 
fait  eriger  £  ses  depens  le  grand  Autel  de  marbre.en  cette  belle 
et  spacieuse  chapelle :  sa  sepulture  est  dessous  le  dit  Autel, 
c'est  une  pierre  bleue  avec  cette  inscription  en  Latin :  Orna- 
tissimo  viro  Petro  Moscronio  I.  C.  Brugensi,  dum  viveret 
Assessori  et  rerum  pupillarium  scribse.  Hseredes  posuerunt. 
vixit  ann.  57,  mens.  5,  dies  2.  Obiit  postridie  kal.  Jan.  anno  a 
nato  Cristo  1571.  R.  I.  P  " 


APPENDIX.  521 

In  llarford's  book,  also,  the  supposition  is  expressed,  that 
the  Madonna  at  Bruges  might  have  been  the  same  as  that  pur- 
chased by  the  Moscheroni.  But  he  has  adduced  nothing  further 
in  confirmation  of  this  opinion. 

To  this  period  seems  to  belong  an  alto-relievo  in  burnt 
clay,  executed  in  Florence,  and  now  in  the  Berlin  Museum, 
representing  a  Madonna  and  Child,  and  which  I  consider  to 
be  a  work  of  Michael  Angelo's.  The  position  of  the  child 
strikingly  resembles  that  of  the  Madonna  at  Bruges.  The 
same  resemblance  again  occurs  in  the  picture  mentioned  in 
Note  XV.  Strangely  enough,  it  is  also  seen  in  the  infant 
Christ,  in  Raphael's  Giardiniera,  which  belongs  to  the  year 
1507.  Only  the  turn  of  the  head  here  is  different. 

XXII.  —  PAGE  231. 

Document!  per  la  storia  dell'  arte  sanese;  Siena,  1856,  iii. 
19.  —  Possibly  the  contract  may  have  been  signed  by  Michael 
Angelo  in  Siena  itself.  Galli's  signature  bears  the  date  of  the 
25th. 

XXIII.  —  PAGE  232. 

Gave,  454.  —  "Incepit  dictus  Michael  Angelus  laborare  et 
sculpire  dictum  gigantem  die  13  Settembris,  1501,  die  lune  de 
mane,  quamquam  prius  alio  die  ejusdem  uno  vel  duobus  ictibus 
compulisset,  quoddam  nodum  quod  habent  (  ?)  pictores :  dicto 
die  incepit  firmiter  laborare."  It  must  have  been  the  com- 
mencement of  some  sort  of  symbolic  work. 

XXIV.  —  PAGE  233. 

1  Braccio  (ell)  =  2  Florentine  feet.  Storia  Fiorentina  di 
Benedetto  Varchi  ed.  Lelio  Arbib.  ii.  79 :"  Ogni  braccio  Flor- 
entine contiene  due  piedi  antichi  romani."  The  Roman  foot  is 
taken  by  Wurm  as  131.15  Paris  lines.  Bockh,  Metrologischc 
Untersuchungeu,  S.  28. 

XXV.— PAGE  236. 

Now  in  the  Uffici.  Mariette  speaks  of  a  drawing  to  be 
found  in  his  collection,  which  is  said  to  have  expressed  Michael 
Angelo's  first  idea  as  to  the  David,  but  which  he  afterwards 
gave  up.  From  the  description,  it  seems  to  have  represented 
Donatello's  David. 

XXVI.  —  PAGE  237. 

Gaye,  II.  457.  —  "  E  quivi  a  me  pareva  stessi  bene  in  orna- 
mento  della  chiesa  e  de'  consoli,  et  mutato  loco."  As  the 


522  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


editors  of  Vasari  expressly  observe,  Gaye  did  not  give  the  doc- 
ument quite  faithfully.     1  read  it,  "  et  iu  usato  loco." 

XXVH.  — PAGE  241. 

Thus,  according  to  Turotti,  Brown,  and  others,  who  quote 
Amoretti,  whose  book  I  do  not  know.  It  is  perhaps  only  a 
pathetic  description  of  the  simple  fact. 

XXVIIL  —  PAGE  243. 
In  London  at  the  present  day. 

XXIX.  — PAGE  245. 

Soderini,  elected  as  gonfalonier  for  life,  is  said,  according  to 
Vasari,  to  have  wished  the  stone  to  have  fallen  to  him.  This 
election,  however,  occurs  later. 

XXX.— PAGE  246. 

"  Pari  d'amori,"  it  stands  in  Giovanni  Santi's  rhyming 
chronicle.  Was  not  " pari  d'onori "  perhaps  meant? 

XXXI.  — PAGE  259. 

This  is  doubtful,  like  the  residence  in  Siena  at  all.  Vasari 
is  often  not  to  be  depended  on ;  but  when  exactly  the  contrary 
to  what  he  says  is  not  stated,  or  other  evidence  does  not  make 
it  untenable,  we  cannot  contradict  his  statements.  Here,  how- 
ever, opinions  and  conjectures  are  alone  concerned. 

XXXn.  —  PAGE  260. 

For  the  letter  of  introduction  from  the  Prefect  of  Rome,  see 
the  Prussian  Chronicles,  xiii.  1  and  2. 

XXXHL  —  PAGE  266. 
This  sketch  is  from  Bunsen's  description  of  Home. 

XXXIV.— PAGE  269. 

The  sketch  of  the  Uffici  is  strictly  architecturally  designed. 
Dividing  the  ground-line  into  twenty-four  parts,  all  the  rest  is 
planned  accordingly.  Condivi  gives  the  measure  in  braccie 
The  sheet  is  photographed,  and  is  easy  to  procure. 


APPENDIX.  523 


XXXV.  — PAGE  269. 
Vasari  says  "Provinces." 

XXXVI.  —  PAGE  270. 

Vasari  assigns  them  other  places.  This  is  not  to  be  re- 
garded, as  he  is  here  perfectly  dependent  on  othurs. 

XXXVIL  —  PAGE  270. 

Rachael  and  Leah  as  personifications.  Mariette  (notes  to 
Condivi)  thinks  to  have  discovered  the  sketch  of  one  of  these 
figures  in  the  drawing  now  in  the  Uffici.  He  calls  her  La  Pru- 
dence. Perhaps  he  was  misled  by  the  expression  "  contempla- 
tive life ;  "  for  the  sitting  figure  has  a  mirror  in  her  hand,  in 
which  she  is  looking  at  herself;  and  a  little  boy  is  standing  be- 
fore her,  just  as,  on  the  sketch  of  the  monument,  small  figures 
of  children  stand  before  the  sitting  figures. 

The  drawing  appears  to  me  to  represent  no  work  of  sculp- 
ture. 

XXXVin.— PAGE  271. 

Mariette  supposes,  also,  the  top  of  the  monument  to  have 
been  different,  since  he  regards  a  drawing  found  in  Paris  to  be 
the  rest  of  the  Florentine  sheet,  which  is  defective  in  the  upper 
part.  According  to  this,  in  opposition  to  Condivi  (and  Vasa- 
ri), the  monument  would  have  terminated  above  with  an  angel 
bearing  a  ball,  standing  on  the  top  of  a  pyramid.  Mariette 
•asserts  himself  to  have  been  in  possession  of  a  water-color 
drawing  of  Michael  Angelo's,  on  which  the  whole  was  thus 
represented,  and  throughout  agreeing  with  Condivi's  descrip- 
tion. 

This  conformite  is  not  true ;  for  Condivi  knows  nothing  of 
the  angel,  the  ball,  and  the  pyramid :  but  the  drawing  has  been 
lost. 

Besides  this,  Mariette  asserts,  that  he  also  possessed  the 
angel  with  the  ball  on  its  shoulders  separemeiit.  This  latter 
drawing  still  exists  in  Paris.  With  regard  to  the  other,  the 
upper  part  of  it  seems  to  me  a  mere  fancy.  D'Agincourt,  for 
instance,  maintains  that  the  drawing  which  Mariette  possessed 
is  in  his  hands.  It  is  the  one  in  the  Uffici.  This,  however,  as 
we  saw,  is  defective  above.  Moreover,  Mariette  does  not  ex- 
press himself  very  distinctly.  It  was  probably  his  opinion, 
that  the  upper  missing  part  of  the  drawing  represented  what 
he  imagined ;  and  he  wrote  as  if  he  had  the  whole,  before  him. 


524  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


In  France,  however,  Mariette  seems  to  be  of  indubitable 
authority.  In  Fr6d6ric  Villot's  explanation  of  the  above-men- 
tioned drawing,  La  Prudence,  now  in  M.  Reiset's  collection, 
is  pronounced  by  Villot  to  be,  "  L'Innocence  effraye  par 
1'Hypocrisie,  qui  se  r^fugie  entre  les  genoux  de  la  Verite."  A 
naked  child  is  running  towards  the  lap  of  a  woman,  holding  a 
mirror ;  whilst  another,  holding  a  great  mask  inverted  before 
his  face,  seems  to  frighten  him  away. 

I  consider  the  Paris  copy  of  this  drawing  as  doubtful.  Accu- 
rately compared  with  the  Florentine,  which  can  be  done  by 
photographs,  there  is,  in  the  strokes  of  the  Paris  plate,  an  out- 
ward, but  rather  powerless  imitation  of  the  other. 

XXXIX.— PAGK  273. 

No.  1.  Letters  to  his  Father,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum.  —  "  De'  casi  mia  di  qua,  io  ne  farei  bene,  se  e'  mia 
marmi  venissino,  ma  in  questa  parte  mi  pare  avere  grandissima 
disgrazia,  die  niai,  poi  che  io  ci  sono,  sia  stato  dua  di  buon 
tempo.  S'abatte  a  venirne,  phi  giorni  fa,  una  barca  che  ebbe 
grandissima  ventura  a  non  capitar  male.  Perch&  era  contrat- 
tempo,  e  poi  che  io  gli  ebbe  scarichi,  subito  venne  el  fiume 
grosso,  e  ricopersegli  in  modo  che  ancora  non  ho  potuto  comin- 
ciare  a  far  niente,  e  pure  do  parole  al  papa,  e  tengolo  in  buona 
speranza,  per  che  e'  non  si  crucci  meco,  sperando  che'l  tempo 
s'acconci  ch'  io  cominci  presto.  Che  Dio  il  voglia. 

"  Pregovi  che  voi  pigliate  tutti  quegli  disegni,  cioe  tutte 
quelle  carte  che  commessi  in  quel  sacco  che  io  vi  dissi,  e  che 
voi  ne  facciate  un  fardelletto,  e  mandatemelo  per  uno  vettu- 
rale,  ma  vedete  d'acconciarlo  bene  per  amor  dell'  acqua,  e 
abbiate  cura,  quanto  che  e'  non  ne  vadi  male  una  minima  carta, 
e  raccomandatela  al  vetturale,  perche  v'e  certe  cose  che  impor- 
tano  assai,  e  scrivetemi  per  chi  voi  mele  mandate,  e  quello  che 
io  gli  ho  a  dare. 

"  Di  Michele,  io  gli  scrissi  che  mettessi  quella  cassa  in  luogo 
sicuro  al  coperto,  e  poi  subito  venissi  qua  a  Roma,  e  che  non 
mancassi  per  cosa  nessuna.  Non  so  quello  sara  fatto.  Vi 
prego  che  cio  gnene  rammentiate,  e  ancora  prego  voi  che  voi 
duriate  un  poco  di  fatica  in  queste  dua  cose,  cioe  in  fare  riporro 
quella  cassa  al  coperto  in  luogo  sicuro ;  Paltra  e  quella  nostra 
donna  di  marmo  :  similmente  vorrei  la  facessi  portare  costi  in 
casa,  e  non  la  lasciassi  vedere  a  persona.  Io  non  vi  mando  e' 
danari  per  queste  dua  cose,  perchd  stimo  che  sia  picciola  cosa, 
e  voi  se  gli  dovessi  accattare,  fate  di  farlo,  perchd  presto,  se  e' 
mia  marmi  giungono,  vi  mandero  danari  per  questo  per  voi !  — 
pregate  Dio  che  le  mie  cose  vadino  bene,  e  vedete  di  spendere 
a  ogni  modo  per  insino  in  mille  ducati  in  terre,  come  siamo 
rimasti." 


APPENDIX.  525 


Postscript :  That  he  will  send  the  inclosed  letters  to  Piero 
d'Argiento. 

Upon  the  letter:  " Allodovicho  di  lionardo  di  buouarrota 
simoni  I  firenze.  Dato  nella  dogana  di  fioreza." 

XL.  — PAGE  274. 

There  are  some  interesting  letters  in  Gaye  respecting  the 
discoveries  of  ancient  works  at  that  time. 

XLL— PAGE  275. 

Bottari,  Lett.  Pitt.  iii.  321.  —  "  Giovanangelo  Romano  e 
Michel  Christofano  Fiorentino,  che  sono  i  primi  scultori  di 
Roma."  The  easily  recognized  confusion  of  names  has  been 
already  set  right  by  Fea. 

XLII.  —  PAGE  280. 

"Tn  hai  fatta  una  prova  col  Papa,  che  non  Parrebbe  fatta 
tin  Re  di  Francia,"  Cond.  xxx.  — "  Fare  pill  che  re  Carlo  in 
Francia"  is  a  Roman  proverb. 

XLHI.  —  PAGE  281. 

Embassies  at  that  time  usually  consisted  of  several  oratori 
or  ambasciadori.  The  reasons  for  which  Michael  Angelo's 
journey  was  obliged  to  be  discontinued  in  this  capacity,  have 
been  hitherto  overlooked. 

XLIV.— PAGE  289. 

I  have  given  the  historical  details  according  to  Pignotti,  who 
mentions  no  authority.  Goethe  (Appendix  to  Cellini)  has 
another  idea.  Vasari  and  Condivi  do  not  say  what  event  the 
cartoon  represents. 

XLV.  —  PAGE  291. 

We  know  not  when  and  how,  but  its  destruction  began 
early.  The  hall  was  subsequently  completely  rebuilt  and 
painted  by  Vasari.  Thus  it  still  stands  there,  with  several 
sculptures  in  it,  among  them  some  unfinished,  from  Michael 
Angelo's  remains. 

XLVI.  —  PACK  294. 

Xo.  9  of  the  Letters  to  Buonarroto.  in  the  British  Museum. 
"  Buonarroto, — lo  ho  ricevuto  oggi  qucsto  di  diciannove  di 


526  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

dicembre  una  tua,  per  la  quale  mi  raccomandi  Piero  Orlandiui, 
e  che  io  lo  serva  di  quello  che  lui  mi  domanda.  Sappi  che  lui 
mi  scrive  che  io  gli  facci  fare  una  lama  d'  una  daga,  e  che  io 
facci  ch'  ella  sia  una  cosa  mirabile.  Per  tanto  non  so,  com1  io 
melo  potro  servire  presto  e  bene,  1'  una  si  6,  perchd  non  e  mia 
professione,  1'  altra,  perchd  io  non  ho  tempo  da  potervi  atten- 
dere.  Pure  m'  ingegnero,  infra  uu  mese,  che  sia  servito  il 
meglio  che  io  sapro. 

"  De'  fatti  vostri,  e  massime  di  Giovansimone,  ho  inteso  il 
tutto.  Piacemi  che  lui  si  ripari  a  bottega  tua,  e  che  egli  abbi 
voglia  di  far  bene,  perchd  io  ho  voglia  d'aiutar  lui  come  voi 
altri,  e  se  Dio  m'aiuta,  come  ha  fatto  sempre,  io  ispero  in 
questa  quaresima  avere  fatto  quello  che  io  ho  a  fare  qua,  e  tor- 
ner6  costa,  e  fard  a  ogni  modo  quello  che  io  v'  ho  promesso. 
De1  danari  che  tu  mi  scrivi  che  Giovansimone  vuole  porre  in  sur 
una  bottega,  a  me  parrebbe  che  gl'  indugiassi  ancora  quattro 
mesi  e  fare  lo  scoppio  e'  1  baleno  a  un  tratto'.  So  che  tu  m'  in- 
tendi,  e  basta.  Digli  da  mia  parte  che  attenda  a  far  bene,  e  se 
pure  e'  volessi  e'  danari  che  tu  mi  scrivi,  bisognerebbe  torre  di 
cotesti  costa,  perche'  di  qua  non  ho  ancora  da  mandargli,  perch£ 
ho  piccolo  prezzo  di  quello  che  io  fo,  e  anche  £  cosa  dubbia,  e 
potrebbemi  avvenire  cosa  che  mi  disfarebbe  del  mondo.  Per 
tanto  vi  conforto  a  star  pazienti  questi  pochi  mesi  tanto  che  io 
torni  costa. 

"  De'  casi  del  venire  qua  Giovansimone,  non  nelo  consiglio, 
ancora  perche  son  qua  in  una  cattiva  stanza,  e  6  comperato  uno 
letto  solo,  nel  quale  stiamo  quattro  persone,  e  non  arei  el  modo 
accettarlo  come  si  richiede.  Ma  se  lui  ci  vuole  pure  venire, 
aspetti  che  io  abbi  gittata  la  figura  che  io  fo,  e  rimanderonne 
Lapo  e  Lodovico  che  m'  aiutano,  e  manderogli  un  cavallo,  accio 
che  e1  venga,  e  non  com1  una  bestia.  Non  altro.  Pregato 
Iddio  (iodio,  more  frequently  written)  per  me,  e  che  le  coso 
vadino  bene.  MICHELAGNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Bologna.11 

The  facci  fare  I  have  referred  to  Michael  Angelo  himself,  as 
it  may  well  be  thus  understood.  Orlandini  was  of  opinion  that 
the  blade  was  to  be  executed  after  Michael  Angelo's  design. 

XLVII.  —  PAGE  296. 

No.  10.  Letters  to  his  Brothers,  in  the  possession  of  tlio 
British  Museum.  "  Buonarroto, —  Io  ebbi  una  tua  lettera,  pii 
giorni  fa,  per  la  quale  intesi  come  Lodovico  aveva  mercatato 
con  Francesco  (fra°)  il  podere  di  mona  Zanobia;  e  di  Giovan- 
simone ancora  m1  avvisasti,  come  si  riparava  in  bottega  dove  tu 
stai,  e  come  avea  disidero  di  venire  insina  qua  Bologna.  Non 
t'  ho  risposto  prhna,  perchi  non  ho  avuto  tempo,  se  non  oggi. 


APPENDIX.  527 


"  De*  casi  del  podere  sopraditto,  tu  mi  di'  chi,  Lodovico  1'  ha 
mercatato,  e  che  lui  m'  avvisera.  Sappi  che  sc  lui  me  n'  ha 
scritto  niente,  che  io  non  ho  avuta  lettera  che  ne  parli.  Pero 
sappignene  dire  accio  che  e'  non  ne  pigliassi  ammirazione,  non 
avendo  risposta  se  m'ha  scritto. 

"  Di  Giovansimone  io  ti  diro  il  parer  mio,  accio  che  tu  gnene 
dica  da  mia  parti,  e  questo  £,  ch'  a  me  non  piace  che  e'  venga 
qua,  inanzi  che  io  gitto  questa  figura  che  io  fo,  e  questo  fo  per 
buon  rispetto  :  non  volere  intendere  il  perche" .  Basta  che  subito 
che  io  I1  aro  gittata,  che  io  Io  faro  venire  qua  a  ogni  modo,  e  sara 
con  manco  noia,  perche  m'  ard  levate  da  dosso  queste  spese  che 
io  ho  ora. 

"  Io  credo  intorno  a  mezza  quaresima  avere  a  ordine  da 
gittare  la  mia  figura,  si  che  pregate  Iddio  ch'  ella  mi  venga 
bene,  perch£,  se  mi  viene  bene,  spero  avere  buona  sorte  con 
questo  papa,  sua  grazia,  e  se  io  la  gitto  a  mezza  quaresima, 
e  ella  venga  bene,  spero  in  queste  feste  di  pasqua  essere  costa,  e 
quello  che  io  v'ho  promesso  faro  a  ogui  modo,  se  voi  attenderete 
a  fare  bene. 

"  Di'  a  Piero  Aldobran  (Orlandini  must,  without  doubt,  be 
intended.  Or  may  the  error  here  furnish  the  proof,  as  all 
others  are  wanting,  that  Michael  Angelo  had  again  met  with 
his  old  patron  Aldovrandi,  whose  name  thus  came  to  his  pen  ?) 
che  io  ho  fatto  fare  la  sua  lama  al  migliore  maestro  che  sia  qua 
di  simil  cose,  e  che  di  questa  settimana,  che  viene,  m'  ha  detto 
che  io  Taro.  Avuto  ch'  io'  1'  ho,  se  mi  parra  cosa  buona,  io 
gnene  manderd ;  se  non,  la  faro  rifare,  e  digli,  non  si  maravigli, 
se  non  Io  scrivo  presto  come  conviensi,  perche"  ho  tanta  carestia 
di  tempo  ch'  io  non  posso  fare  altro.  A  di  venti  dua  di  gennaio, 
1506  (Florentine  style) . 

"MiCHELAGNiOLO  di  Lodovico  Buonarroti, 

Scultore  in  Bologna.1" 

Address:  "Data  nella  bottega  di  Lorenzo  Strozzi,  arte  di 
lana,  dirimpetto  allo  speziale  defla  palla  in  porta  rossa." 

XLVm.— PAGE  301. 

No.  11.  Letters  to  his  Brothers,  in  the  possession  of  the 
British  Museum.  —  The  manner  in  which  the  affairs  with 
the  podere  di  Mona  Zanobia  had  been  managed,  has  his  con- 
sent. "  De'  casi  del  Baronciello  io  mi  sono  informato  assai 
bene,  e,  per  quello  che  m'  e  detta,  la  cosa  e1  molto  phi  grave  che 
voi  non  la  fate.  Per  tanto  io  non  sono  per  domandarla,  perche, 
se  non  la  ottenessi,  ne  sarei  malcontento,  e  se  io  la  ottenessi,  mi 
sare'  danno  grandissimo,  e  ancora  alia  casa.  Credi  che  io  non 
arei  aspettato  le  seconde  lettere,  se  questa  cosa  fussi  possibile  a 
nie,  perche  non  e  cosa  nessuna  che  io  non  facessi  per  Baronciello. 


D28  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

"  El  papa  fu  venerdi  a  ventuna  ora  a  cassa  mia,  dov'  io  lavora 
(lavo  is  written)  e  mostro  che  la  cosa  gli  piacessi,  pero  pregate 
Dio  ch'  ella  venga  bene,  ch&  se  cosi  fia,  spero  riacquistar  buona 
grazia  seco.  Credo  che  in  questo  caruovale  si  partira  di  qua, 
secondoche  si  dice  in  fra  la  plebe  perd. 

"  La  lama  di  Piero,  come  esco  fuora,  cerchero  d1  uno  fidato 
per  mandargnene. 

"  Se  Lapo  che  stava  qua  meco,  e  Lodovico  venissino  a  parlare 
costa  a  Lodovico  nostro,  digli  che  non  presti  orecchi  alle  loro 
parole,  e  massimamenti  di  Lapo,  e  non  ne  pigli  ammirazione, 
chfi  piii  per  agio  awisero  del  tutto. 

"  Di  Giovansimone  ho  inteso.  Ho  caro,  attenda  a  fare  bene, 
e  cosi  lo  comforta,  perchd  presto  spero,  se  sare'  savi,  mettervi 
in  buon  grado.  A  di  primo  di  febraio  1506  (Flor.  st.) 

"  MICHELAGNIOLO  di  Buo:iairota  Simom 
in  Bologna." 

It  is  remarkable  how  he  here  and  elsewhere  changes  the 
signature. 

No  more  particulars  are  to  be  found  respecting  Baronciello's 
affair.  Riacguistar  is  striking. 


The  letter  published  by  Ciampi  thus  acquires  in  this  respect 
also  a  mark  of  genuineness. 

XLLX.  — PAGE  301. 

No.  2.  Letters  to  his  Father,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum.  —  "A  di'  otto  di  Febraio  1506.  (Tlor.  st.)" 

A  long  letter,  in  which  Lapo's  and  Lodovico's  deceptions  are 
exposed. 

L.— PAGE  304. 

The  other  letters  in  the  British  Museum,  belonging  here,  are 
these :  — 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  1. 

"  Buonarroto,  —  Questa,  perche"  io  (ho  scritto  is  left  out)  a 
messere  Agniolo,  la  quale  lettera  sara  con  questa,  dalla  subito, 
perch&  £  cosa  che  importa.  Non  ho  da  dirti  altro.  Io  t'avvisai, 
pochi  giorni  fa,  pel  Riccione  Orafo,  credo  Tarai  avuta.  Le  cose 
di  qua  vanno  bene.  Di'  a  Lodovico  che  quando  fia  tempo  da 
gittare  la  mia  figura,  che  io  ravvisero. 

"A  di  ventinove  di  Marzo  1506.  (Flor.  st.) — MICHEL- 
A.GNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Bologna 


APPENDIX.  529 


44  A  Buonarroto  di  Lodovico  di  Buonarrota  Simoni  in 
44  Data  nella  bottega  di  Lorenzo  Strozzi,  arte  di  lana,  in  porta 
rossa,  o  alia  lana  nel  palazzo  de'  Signori  in  Firenze." 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  2. 

Again  a  letter  is  enclosed,  to  be  at  once  delivered  to  Messei 
Agniolo.  (Baccio  d'  Agniolo.)  He  will  write  next  time  to 
Giovansimone :  "lo  sto  bene,  e  la  cosa  mia  va  bene,  grazia  di 
Dio."  14th  April. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  3. 

"Buonarroto, — lo  ho  oggi  una  tua  de'  diciassette  d'  aprile, 
per  laquale  ho  inteso  el  viaggio  grande  che  fanno  le  mia  lettere 
a  venire  costa.  Non  posso  fare  altro,  perche  c'  &  cattivo  ordine 
intorno  a  c56. 

"  lo  ho  inteso  per  la  tua  pill  cose  alle  quali  non  rispondo, 
perchi  non  accade.  Duolini  ti  sia  portato  di  si  piccola  cosa  si 
pidocchiosamente  con  Filippo  Strozzi.  Ma  poi  che  A  fatto  non 
puo  tornare  a  dietro. 

44  De'  casi  mia  io  scrivo  a  Giovansimone,  e  lui  t'  avvisera  com' 
io  la  .  .  .  e  cosi  avvisate  Lodovico. 

44  Vorrei  che  tu  andassi  all'  araldo,  e  che  gli  dicessi  che  io, 
non  avendo  mai  avuto  risposta  da  lui  de'  casi  di  maestro  Ber- 
nardino, ho  stima  io  che  el  detto  maestro  Bernardino  non  sia 
per  venire  qua  per  amore  delle  peste,  ond'  io  ho  tolto  uno 
francioso  in  quello  scambio,  il  quale  mi  servira  bene ;  e  questo 
&  fatto,  perche  non  potevo  piii  aspettare  ;  fagnene  a  sapere  cio, 
e  a  messere  Agniolo,  e  raccomandami  a  lui,  e  digli  che  mi  racco- 
mandi  alia  Signoria  del  gonfaloniere. 

"Raccommandami  a  Giovanni  da  Ricasoli  quando  lo  vedi. 

4 '  A  di  venti  d'  aprile  (the  year  is  wanting) .  MICHELAGNIOLO, 
in  Bologna." 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  4. 

44  Buonarroto,  —  Io  ebbi  una  tua  per  maestro  Bernardino,  il 
quale  n'  &  venuto  qua.  He  expresses  his  pleasure  that  all, 
except  Giovansimone,  were  well.  He  is  sorry  not  to  be  able  to 
help,  ma  presto  spero  essere  di  costA.  Quest'  altro  mese  io 
credo  gittare  la  mia  figura  a  ogni  modo,  perd  se  vuole  fare  fare 
orazione,  o  altro,  accio  che  la  venga  bene,  faccialo  a  quel  tempo, 
e  digli  che  io  nelo  prego."  He  has  no  time  for  more.  May  26. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  5. 

He  has  not  written,  because  he  wished  to  have  waited  for  the 
cast.  This  will  at  any  rate  take  place  next  Saturday.  If  lie 
succeeds,  he  hopes  soon  to  be  in  Florence.  "  Sono  sano  e  sto 
bene,  e  cosi  stimo  di  voi  tutti."  June  20. 

VOL.  i.  23  mi 


530  LIFE   OF   MICIIAEL  ANGELO. 


Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  6. 

"  Buonarroto,  —  Sappi  come  noi  abbiamo  gittata  la  mia  figura, 
nella  quale  non  ho  avuta  troppa  buona  sorte ;  e  questo  &  stato 
che  maestro  Bernardino,  o  per  ignoranza,  o  per  disgrazia,  non 
ha  ben  fonduto  la  materia.  II  come  sarebbe  lungo  a  scrivere, 
basta  che  la  uiia  figura  e  venuta  insino  alia  cintola,  e1 1  resto  della 
materia,  cioe  mezzo  il  metallo  s'  e  restate  nel  forno,  che  non  era 
fonduto,  in  modo  che  a  cavarnelo  mi  bisogna  far  disfare  il  forno, 
e  cosi  fo,  e  farolle  rifare  ancora  di  questa  settimana  la  forma,  e 
credo  che  la  cosa  del  male  andera  assai  bene,  ma  non  sanza 
grandissima  passione  e  fatica  e  spesa.  Arei  preduto  che  maestro 
Bernandino  avessi  fonduto  sanza  fuoco,  tanta  fede  avcvo  in  lui. 
Non  di  manco  non  e  che  lui  non  sia  buon  maestro,  e  che  non 
abbi  fatto  con  amore,  ma  chi  fa  falla,  e  lui  ha  ben  fallito  a  mio 
danno,  e  anche  a  suo,  perche  s1  e  vituperate  in  modo  che  non 
pu6  piu  alzar  gli  occhi  per  Bologna.  Se  tu  vedessi  Baccio 
d'Agniolo,  leggigli  la  lettera,  e  pregalo  che  n'  avvisi  il  Sangallo 
a  Roma,  e  raccommandami  a  lui  e  a  Giovanni  da  Kicasoli  e  al 
Granaccio  mi  raccomanda.  lo  credo,  se  la  cosa  va  bene,  infra 
quindici  o  venti  di  esser  fuora  di  questa  cosa,  e  tornare  di  costa. 
Se  non  andassi  bene,  1'arei  forse  a  rifare.  Di  tutto  t'avvisero. 
Awisami  come  sta  Giovansimone.  Ai  di  sei  di  luglio. 

"  Con  questa  sara  una  che  va  a  Roma  a  Giuliano  da  Sangallo. 
Mandala  bene  e  presto,  quanto  tu  puoi.  E  se  lui  fussi  in 
Firenze  dagnene."  —  Without  signature. 

LL  — PAGE  304. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  7,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"Buonarroto, — lo  non  ho  tempo  da  rispondere  all'  ultima 
tua  come  si  converrebbe.  Ma  sappi,  com'  10  sono  sano,  e  ard 
finite  presto,  e  stimo  avere  grandissimo  onore,  tutto  grazia  di 
Dio,  e  subito,  finito  che  aro,  tornero  costi,  e  acconciero  tutte  le 
cose  di  che  tu  mi  scrivi,  in  forma  che  voi  sarete  contcnti,  simil- 
mente  Lodovico  e  Giovansimone.  Pregoti,  vadi  a  trovare  I' 
araldo  e  Tomaso  comandatore,  e  di'  loro,  che  per  questo  non 
ho  tempo  da  scriver  loro  etc.  To  San  Gallo  also,  he  was  to 
say  that  he  should  soon  have  finished,  and  he  was  to  write 
to  him  how  San  Gallo  was.  A  di  ottobre  (without  number  and 
year).  —  MICHELAGNIOLO,  in  Bologna." 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  12. 

"Buonarroto,  —  lo  ho  ricevuto  una  tua,  per  la  quale  ho 
inteso  come  sta  el  San  Gallo.  Non  faro  altra  risposta  alia 


APPENDIX. 


tua,  perchd  non  accade.  Basta  ch'  io  sono  a  buon  porto  dell' 
opera  mia,  si  che  state  di  buona  voglia.  Con  questa  saranno 
certe  lettere.  Dalle  bene  e  presto.  Non  so  a  quanti  di  noi  ci 
siamo,  ma  ieri  fu  Santo  Luca ;  cercane  da  te. —  MICHELAGNIOLO, 
in  Bologna." 

St.  Luke  falls  on  the  18th  October. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  8. 

Buonarroto  is  astonished  that  he  writes  so  rarely ;  but  he  has 
no  time.  From  his  last  letter,  he  sees  that  Buonarroto  wishes 
his  speedy  return  for  good  reasons.  Buonarroto  must  write  to 
him  more  distinctly,  as  he  does  not  understand  the  matter.  He 
himself  wishes  to  return  home  far  more  urgently  than  they  can 
desire  it:  "Perche  sto  qua  con  grandissimo  disagio  e  con 
fatiche  istreme,  e  non  attendo  a  altro  che  a  lavorare  el  di  e  la 
notte,  e  ho  durata  tanta  fatica  e  duro,  che  so  io  n'  avessi  a  rifare 
un'  altra,  non  crederei  che  la  vita  mi  bastassi,  perch£  e  stato  una 
grandissima  opera,  e  se  ella  fussi  alle  mani  d'  un  altro,  ci  sarebbe 
capitato  male  dentro.  Ma  io  stimo  le  orazioni  di  qualche  per- 
sona m'  abbiano  aiutato  e  tenuto  sano,  perche  era  contra  1'opin- 
lone  di  tutta  Bologna,  ch'  io  la  condueessi  mai.  Poi  che  la  fu 
gittata,  e  prima  ancora,  non  era  chi  credessi  ch'  io  la  gittassi 
mai.  Basta  ch'  io  1'  ho  condotta  a  buon  termine,  ma  non  1'  ar6 
finita  per  tutto  questo  mcse,  come  stimavo  ;  ma  di  quest'  altro  a 
ogni  modo  sara  finita,  e  tornero.  Pero  state  tutti  di  buona 
voglia,  perche  io  faro  cio  ch'  io  v'  ho  promesso  a  ogni  modo. 
Conforta  Lodovico  e  Giovansimone  da  mia  parte,  e  scrivimi, 
come  la  fa  Giovansimone,  e  attendete  a  imparare  e  a  stare  in 
bottega,  accid  che  voi  sappiate  fare  quando  vi  bisognera,  che 
sara  presto.  MICHELAGIUOLO,  in  Bologna." 

"A  di  dieci  di  novembre. 

LH.  — PAGE  305. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  13,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"Buonarroto, — Io  ti  mando  una  lettera  in  questa,  la  quale 
£  d'  importanza  assai,  e  va  al  Cardinale  di  Pavia  a  Roma. 
Pero  subito  che  1'  hai  ricevuta  va  a  trovare  el  San  Gallo,  c 
vedi  se  lui  ha  modo  di  mandarla,  ch'  ella  vadi  bene.  E  se 
San  Gallo  non  e"  in  Firenze,  e  non  la  puo  mandare,  falle  una 
coverta,  e  mandala  a  Giovanni  Balducci,  e  pregalo  per  mia 
parte  che  la  mandi  a  Pavia,  cioe  al  detto  cardinale,  e  scrivi 
a  Giovanni,  che  in  questa  quaresima  io  saro  a  Roma,  e  raccom- 
andami  a  lui.  Rawomandami  ancora  al  San  Gallo,  e  digli,  che 
io  ha  a  mente  la  sua  faccenda,  e  che  presto  io  sard  costa 


532  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

Manda  la  detta  lettera  a  ogni  modo,  percli^  non  posso  partire 
di  qua  se  non  ho  risposta.  MICHELAGXIOLO,  in  Bologna. 

"A  di  ventesimo  di  Dicembre." 

Lin.— PAGE  305. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  14,  in  the  possession  of  tli-e  British 
Museum. 

.  .  .  "Isto  qua  in  modo  che  se  tu'  1  sapessi  te  ne  incres- 
cerebbe,"  etc. 

LIV.— PAGE  309. 

Goffo  nell'  arte.  Vas.,  vi.  46. — Vasari  seems  to  have  ima- 
gined that  Perugino  had  criticised  too  sharply  the  cartoon  of 
the  Bathing  Soldiers. 

LV.— PAGE  310. 

Dante  is  said  to  have  asked  Giotto  why  his  paintings  were 
BO  much  more  beautiful  than  his  children.  "  Quia  de  die  pingo 
et  de  nocte  fingo,"  he  is  said  to  have  replied.  This  must  have 
flashed  before  Michael  Angelo :  he  reversed  the  matter. 

LVL  —  PAGE  312. 

The  only  time  that  Du'rer  mentions  Michael  Angelo  is  in 
the  description  of  his  Netherland  journey,  when  he  briefly 
remarks  having^  seen  Michael  Angelo's  picture  of  the  Madonna 
at  Bruges.  —  Camper,  Reliquien,  page  121.  After  that,  I  saw 
the  alabaster  image  to  the  Virgin,  made  by  Michael  Angelo  of 
Rome.  —  1521.  As  regards  Michael  Angelo's  irritability,  we 
see  in  Condivi  the  question  respecting  the  oxen,  and  his  reply. 
It  seems  that  they  wished  to  provoke  him. 

LVn.— PAGE  321. 

Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  31,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"Io  ancora  sono  in  una  fantasia  grande,  perche"  &  gi£  un 
anno  ch'  io  non  ho  avuto  un  grosso  da  questo  papa,  e  non  ne 
chieggo,  perch&  .el  lavoro  mio  non  va  inanzi,  in  modo  ch'  a  me 
ne  paia  meritare,  e  questa  £  la  difficult^  del  lavoro  e'  1  non  esser 
mia  professione.  E  pur  perdo  el  tempo  mio  senza  frutto. 
Iddio  m'  aiuti.  Se  voi  avete  bisogna  di  danari,  andate  allo 
spedalingo,  e  fatevi  dare  per  insino  a  quindici  ducati,  e  avvisa- 
temi  quello  che  vi  resta. 

'•Di  qua  s'  &  partito  a  quest!  di  quello  Jacopo  dipintore, 
che  io  fe'  venire  qua,  e  perch£  e'  s1  e"  doluto  qua  de'  casi  mia 


APPENDIX.  533 

stimo  che  e'  si  dorra  costa.  Fate  orecchi  di  mercatanti,  e 
basta,  perche  lui  ha  mille  torti,  e  are'  mi  grandemente  a  doler 
di  lui.  Fate  vista  di  non  vedere.  Dite  a  Buonarroto  che  io 
gli  rispondero  un'  altra  volta. 

"  Vostro  MICHELAGXIOLO,  in  Roma. 

"  A  di  venti  di  gennaio."  (1509  ?)    Written  by  another  hand. 

This  letter  exhibits  quite  a  different  handwriting  to  the 
others,  and  another  way  of  abbreviating  words.  Nevertheless, 
the  address  on  the  back  of  the  outside  seems  not  to  be  doubted. 
Jacopo  is  certainly  Jacopo  di  Sandro. 

LVm.  — PAGE  323. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,   No.   15,   in  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"  Buonarroto,  —  I/apportatore  di  questa  sara  mio  giovine 
Spagnuolo,  il  quale  viene  costa  per  imparare  a  dipignere,  e 
hammi  richiesto,  ch1  io  gli  facci  vedere  el  mio  cartone  che  io 
cominciai  alia  sala.  Perd  fa  che  tu  gli  facci  aver  le  chiave  a 
ogni  modo,  e  se  tu  puoi  aiutarlo  di  mente,  fallo  per  mio  amore, 
perch£  e  buono  giovane.  Giovansimone  si  sta  qua,  e  questa 
settimana  passata  6  stato  ammalato,  che  non  m1  ha  dato  piccola 
passione,  oltre  a  quelle  che  io  ho  pure.  Ora  sta  assai  bene. 
Credo,  si  tornera  presto  costa,  se  fara  a  mio  modo,  perch£." 

[This  seems  to  be  Berugheta.j 

LIX.  — PAGES  323  AND  326. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  16,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"A  di  ultimo  di  luglio." — 1508  is  noted  again  on  the  ad- 
dress. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  17. 

.  .  .  "  di  Bastiano  lavoratore  non  dico  altro.  Se  lui  volesse 
far  bene,  non  sare1  da  mutarlo.  Ma  io  non  vo1  che  e1  sia  a  inten- 
dere,  che  F  uomo  sia  una  bestia.  Io  fu1  cagione  che  Lodovico 
Io  mettessi  lassii,  per  le  cose  grande  che  e1  mi  disse  di  fare  in 
quel  podere.  Ora  1'  ha  dimenticate,  el  tristo,  ma  io  non  1'  ho 
dimenticato  io.  Digli  da  mia  parte,  che  se  non  fa  el  debito  suo, 
che  non  mi  v'  aspetti,  che  per  awentura  potrei  esser  presto  di 
costa.  He  inquires  whether  Piero  Basso  is  arrived.  A  di 
(10?)  d'Agosto." 

He  becomes  passionate  at  once,  when  he  sees  his  just  claims 
attacked. 


534  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  18. 

He  has  received  the  bread.  "Di  Gisinondo  intendo,  come 
vien  qua,  per  ispedire  la  sua  faccenda.  Digli  da  mia  parte,  che 
non  facci  disegno  nessuno  sopra  di  me.  Non  perch  A  io  non  1' 
ami  come  fratello,  ma  perche  io  non  lo  possa  aiutare  di  cosa 
nessuna.  Io  son  tenuto  a  amare  pi«l  me  che  gli  altri,  e  non 
posso  servire  a  me  delle  cose  necessarie.  Io  sto  qua  in  grande 
affanno  e  con  grandissima  fatica  di  corpo,  e  non  ho  amici  di 
nessuna  sorte,  e  non  ne  voglio,  e  non  ho  tanto  tempo  ch'  io 
possa  mangiare  el  bisogno  mio.  Pero  non  mi  sia  data  piti  noia, 
ch£  io  non  ne  potrei  sopportare  pill  un'  oncia." 

Without  date.  On  the  address  is  written:  "Io  1'  ho  rice- 
vuto  da  Roma  a  d.  17  d'  Ottobre."  The  last  word  is  very 
illegible. 

Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  5,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"  Io  attendo  a  lavorare  quanto  posso.  Non  ho  avuto  danari, 
gia  tredici  mesi  fa,  dal  Papa,  e  stimo  infra  un  mese  e  mezzo 
averne  a  ogni  modo."  Remembrances  to  Ricasoli  and  Messer 
Agniolo,  the  herald.  From  Rome.  No  date. 

To  the  same  time  belongs  No.  4  of  the  Letters  to  his  Father, 
in  the  possession  of  the  British  Museum. 

He  complains  of  a  false  step  of  Giovansimone's.  He  would 
have  liked  to  have  got  on  horseback  at  once,  to  arrange  every 
thing  himself.  He  had,  however,  now  written  to  him.  If  he 
did  not  come  to  his  senses,  and  if  he  took  only  so  much  as  a 
pin's  worth  out  of  the  house,  he  would,  notwithstanding,  get 
permission  from  the  Pope  to  come. 

Giovansimone  seems  to  have  persuaded  his  father  to  give 
him  some  of  his  share,  which  naturally  all  came  from  Michael 
Angelo.  His  father  wtote  to  him  so  often,  that  Michael  Angelo 
once  expressly  says  that  it  is  too  much.  Cf.  Letters  to  his 
Father,  No.  24,  in  the  possession  of  the  British  Museum. 

LX.— PAGE  326. 

Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  35,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 

Museum. 

"  Restavi  certi  ducati  spicciolati,  e'  quali  vi  scrissi  che  voi 
vegli  togliessi.  Se  non  gli  avete  presi,  pigliategli  a  posta 
vostra,  e  se  avete  bisogno  di  piu,  pigliate  cio  che  voi  avete  di 
bisogno,  che"  tanto  quanto  avete  di  bisogno  tanto  vi  dono, 
sebbene  gli  spendessi  tutti.  E  se  bisogna  ch'  io  scriva  allc 
spedalingo,  me  n'  awisate. 


APPENDIX.  535 


"  Intendo  per  1'  ultima  vostra,  come  la  cosa  va.  N'  ho  pas- 
sione  assai.  Non  vene  posso  aiutare  altrimenti,  ma  per  questo 
non  vi  sbigottite,  e  non  vene  date  un'  oncia  di  maiiinconia. 
.Perche,  se  si  perde  la  roba  non  si  perde  la  vita,  lo  ne  faro 
tanta  per  voi,  che  sara  pill  che  quella  che  voi  perderete.  Ma 
ricordovi  bene,  che  voi  non  ne  facciate  stima,  perche  e  cosa 
fallace.  Pure  fate  la  diligenzia  vostra,  e  ringraziate  Iddio, 
che  poi  che  questa  tribulazione  aveva  a  venire,  ch'  ella  sia 
venuta  in  un  tempo,  poi  che  voi  vene  potete  aiutare  meglio  che 
non  aresti  fatto  pel  passato.  Attendete  a  vivere,  e  piii  presto 
lasciate  andare  la  roba  che  patire  disagi,  che  io  ho  pi»i  caro  vivo 
e  povero,  che,  morto  voi,  io  non  arei  tutto  1'oro  del  mondo ;  e 
se  coteste  cicale  costa  o  altri  vi  riprende,  lasciategli  dire,  che 
e1  sono  uomini  sconoscenti  e  senz'  amore.  A  di  quindici  di 
settembre. 

"  Vostro  MICHELAGNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma." 

Written  on  the  side :  — 

"  Qtiando  voi  portate  i  danari  allo  spedalingo,  menate  con 
voi  Buonarroto,  e  He"  voi  ne  lui  non  ne  parlate  a  uomo  del 
mondo  per  buon  rispetto,  doe1  ne  voi  no"  Buonarroto  non  par- 
late  ch'  io  mandi  danari,  ne  di  questi  ne  d'  altri.'1 

In  very  indistinct  writing,  probably  his  father's,  below :  — 

..."  1509  da  Roma.  —  Ch1  io  pigli  i  danari  mi  bisognino, 
e  quanti  io  ne  toglio  e  tanti  mene  dona."  Rather  guessed  than 
read. 

Of  the  letters  to  which  it  is  not  possible  to  assign  a  very 
accurate  date,  the  following  seems  at  least  to  belong  to  this 
year : — 

' '  Carissimo  Padre,  —  Io  ho  avuto  a  questi  giorni  una  lettera 
da  una  monaca,  che  dice  essere  nostra  zia,  la  quale  mi  si  racco- 
manda.  E  dice  che  e1  molto  povera  e  che  e1  in  grandissimo 
bisogno,  e  ch'  io  le  facci  qualche  limosina  per  questo.  Io  vi 
mando  cinque  ducati  larghi,  che  voi  per  1'ainor  di  Dio  gnene 
diate  quattro  e  mezzo,  e  del  mezzo  che  vi  resta  pregovi  che 
diciate  a  Buonarroto  che  mi  facci  comperare,  o  da  Francesco 
(Iranacci  o  da  qualch'  altro  dipintore,  un'  oncia  di  lacca.  o 
tanto  quanto  e'  puo  avere  pe'  detti  danari :  che  sia  la  phi  bella 
che  si  trovi  in  Firenze,  e  se  e'  non  ve  n'  £  che  sia  una  cosa 
bella,  lasci  stare.  La  detta  monaca,  nostra  zia,  credo  che  sia 
nel  munistero  di  San  Giuliano.  Io  vi  prego  che  voi  veggiate 
<!'  intendere  s'  egli  £  vero  che  gli  abbi  si  gran  bisogno,  perch' 
«>lla  mi  scrive  per  una  certa  via  che  non  mi  piace ;  ond'  io 
dubito  che  la  non  sia  qualch'  altra  monaea,  e  di  non  esser  fatto 


536  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

fare.     Perd  quando  vedessi  che  e'  non  fussi  vero,  toglietegli  per 
voi,  e  detti  danari  vi  paghera  Bonifazio  Fati. 

"Non  v'  ho  da  dire  altro  per  ora,  perche  non  sono  ancora 
resolute  di  cosa  nessuna  che  io  vi  possa  avvisare.  PiCk  per  agio 
v'  awisero. 

"  Vostro  MICHELAGNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma." 

LXL—  PAGE  332. 

The  first  great  injury  the  paintings  suffered  was  in  1527, 
when  Bourbon's  soldiers  made  havoc  in  the  Vatican. 

LXn.  — PAGE  338. 

In  Bunsen's  description  of  the  city  of  Rome,  it  is  differently 
explained  by  Platner. 

LXin.  — PAGE  342. 
Beautiful  engraving  by  Beatrizetto. 

LXIV.  — PAGE  344. 

History  and  genre  painting  stand  in  relation  to  each  other  as 
tragedy  does  to  comedy,  —  in  the  one,  human  nature  generally 
in  its  freest  expression ;  in  the  other,  national  peculiarity,  limi- 
ted by  the  externals  brought  about  by  national  intercourse. 
Both,  however,  may  coincide ;  and  this  combination  is  the  char- 
acteristic of  modern  conceptions. 

LXV.  — PAGE  348. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  48,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"Intendo  per  1'ultima  tua,  come  siate  sani  tutti,  e  come  Lo- 
dovico  ha  avuto  un  altro  ufficio.  Tutto  mi  piace,  e  confortolo 
accettare,  quando  la  sia  cosa,  che  pe'  casi  che  posseno  avvenire 
lui  si  possa  tornare  a  sua  posta  in  Firenze.  Io  mi  sto  qua  alT 
usato,  e  aro  finita  la  mia  pittura  per  tutta  quest1  altra  settima- 
na,  cio£  la  parte  ch'  io  cominciai,  e  com'  io  1'  ho  scoperta, 
credo  che  io  aro  danari,  e  ancora  in'  ingegnero  d'avere  licenza 
per  costa  per  un  mese.  Non  so  che  si  seguira.  N'  arei 
bisogno,  perch£  non  sono  molto  sano.  Non  ho  tempo  da 
scrivere  altro.  Ma  awisero  come  seguira. 

"  MICHELAGNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma." 

No  date.  On  the  address  are  some  illegible  remarks  in 
another  hand. 


APPENDIX.  537 


LXVI.  — PAGE  348. 

Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  36,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"  Carissimp  Padre,  —  lo  ho  intesso  per  1'  ultima  vostra, 
come  avete  riportati  e'  quaranta  ducati  allo  spedalingo.  Avete 
fatto  bene.  E  quando  voi  intendessi  die  gli  stessino  a  pericolo, 
pregovi  me  n1  avvisate.  lo  ho  finita  la  cappella  che  10  dipig- 
uevo,  e  '1  papa  resta  assai  ben  sodisfatto.  E  I1  altre  cose  non 
mi  riescono  a  me  siccome  stiinavo  in  colpo  ne  e'  tempi  die 
sono  molto  contrari  all'  arte  nostra.  lo  non  verrd  costa  quest' 
ognisanti,.e  ancora  non  ho  quello  che  bisogna  a  far  quello  che 
voglio  fare.  E  ancora  non  e  tempo  da  cio.  Badate  a  vivere  el 
meglio  che  potete,  e  non  v'  impacciate  di  nessun1  altra  cosa. 
Non  altro.  MICHELAGNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma." 

By  another  hand,  1512  is  marked  below  in  pencil.  All 
Saints'  Day,  1512,  Michael  Angelo,  however,  was  either  in 
Florence,  or  had  just  returned  from  thence  to  Rome. 

Pungileoni  has  produced  two  passages  from  the  diaries  of 
Paris  dei  Grassi,  which  he  endeavors  to  refer  to  the  completion 
of  the  ceiling  paintings  in  the  Sistina  having  taken  place  many 
years  afterwards  ;  and  this  discovery  of  his  has  been  generally 
believed  and  copied.  Let  us  look  at  the  passages :  — 

1.  "  1512.     In  Vigilia  N.  C.  Pontifex  voluit  vesperis  inter- 
esse  in  Capella  Sixtina  .  .  .  sed  quia   non   erat  ubi   possemus 
ponere  thalamum  et  soliuiu  ejus,  dixit,  ut  illud  facerem  ego 
modo  meo." 

Pungileoni  concludes  from  this,  in  the  first  place,  that  there 
was  no  room  for  s-jlium  and  thalamus  (the  floor  on  which  the 
pope's  table  stands,  Ducange)  ;  that  the  chapel  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  be  used  ;  that,  of  course,  this  could  only  be  on  ac- 
count of  th'.1  scaffoldings  used  for  tbe  paintings ;  fourthly  and 
lastly,  that,  because  these  scaffoldings  were  still  there,  the 
paintings  were  not  finished.  Such  is  the  chain  of  evidence, 
consisting  throughout  of  nothing  but  absolute  inferences. 

The  obstacles  of  which  Grassi  speaks,  had  nptliing  at  all  to 
do  with  the  chapel.  It  was  only  necessary  for  him,  the  servant 
of  the  pope,  deeply  initiated  as  he  was  in  questions  of  cere- 
mony, to  note  down  that  the  pope  had  assigned  to  him  the  deci- 
sion as  to  where  thalamus  and  solium  were  to  stand.  Had  the 
chapel  not  been  at  all  fit  to  be  used  for  divine  service,  he  would 
have  noted  this.  It  had  probably  been  just  newly  arranged, 
and  the  last  touches  were  wanting,  in  which  Grassi's  opinion 
was  called  for,  and  he  records  this  with  pride. 

2.  "Circa  horam  noctis  x,  quae  est  inter  dies  20,  21,  feb- 
ruarii,  Julius  Papa  secundus  mortuus  est.  .  .  .  Prima  die  exsi«- 

23* 


538  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 

quiarum  S.  M.  Papse  Julii  II.  feci  fieri  castrum  per  innumeros 
operarios  vicinum  portae  mediae  Basiiicte  in  duabus  caunis, 
quia  ipsa  Basilica  erat  quasi  media  versus  altare  diruta." 

This  does  not  refer  at  all  to  the  Sistina,  but  to  the  Basilica 
of  St.  Peter,  which  was  gradually  being  pulled  down  as  the 
new  building  progressed,  and  was  at  that  time  still  uninjured 
at  the  front  entrance. 

Neither  passages  prove  any  thing.  On  the  other  hand,  I  find 
from  the  annals  of  Raynaldus,  that,  in  February,  1510,  mass  was 
celebrated  in  the  Sistina.  There  is  another  casual  reference 
also  to  1510.  In  the  annals  of  Raynaldus,  there  is  mention 
made  of  the  appearance  of  a  comet  in  this  year.  Gould  the 
meteor  in  the  background  of  the  Madonna  di  Fuligno  denote 
this  comet,  and  the  date  of  the  painting  be  settled  by  it? 

LXVIL—  PAGE  356. 
See  Pruss.  Chronicles,  January  number,  1864. 

LXVILL  —  PAGE  366. 

The  last  verse  is  altered  by  the  editor.     It  must  mean  — 
"  Or  che  farebber  dunque  i  mie  braccia  ?  " 

LXIX.— PAGE  367. 

One  reading  of  the  Vatican  manuscript  has  onde  fu  seco  ogrii 
virtu  sepolta.  The  whole  verse  is  this :  — 

"  Tornami  al  tempo,  allor  che  lenta  e  sciolta 
Al  cieco  ardor  m'  era  la  briglia  e'  1  freno, 
Uendimi  '1  volto  angelico  e  sereno, 
Onde  fu  seco  ogni  virtu  sepolto." 

What  does  this  seco  mean? 

LXX.  — PAGE  384. 

The  seal  ^presents  the  following  figure.  The  letters  were 
fastened  with  a  wafer ;  and,  besides  that, 
a  pie  -e  of  string  was  wound  round  them, 
the  two  ends  of  which  were  placed  under 
i  the  wafer. 

Could  the  design  on  the  seal  have  been, 
at  the  sanu-  dine,  Michael  Angelo's  mark 
for  his  works  ?  I  have  hitherto  not  ob- 
served it  on  his  works.  Could  the  nod:ts 

mentioned  at  obs.  23  be  intended  by  it? 

The  letters  referred  to  were  — 


APPENDIX.  530 


Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  28,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

"Carissimo  Padre, — lo  ho  avuta  una  vostra  stamani,  a  di 
5  di  settembre,  la  quale  in'  ha  dato,  e  da,  gran  passione,  inten- 
dendo  che  Buonarroto  sta  male.  Pregovi,  visto  la  prescnte, 
in'  avvisiate  come  sta,  perche,  se  stessi  pur  male,  io  verrei  per 
le  poste  insino  costa  di  questa  settimana  olie  viene,  bcnchc  mi 
sarebbe  grandissimo  danno,  e  questo  e,  che  io  resto  avere 
cinquecento  ducati,  di  patto  fatto  guadagnati,  e  altrettanta  me 
ne  dovea  dare  el  papa  per  mettere  mano  nell'  ultra  parte  dell 
'opera.  E  lui  s'  e  partito  di  qua,  e  non  m'  ha  lasciato  ordine 
nessuno,  in  modo  che  mi  trovo  sanza  danari,  ne  so  quello  in' 
abbia  a  fare  se  mi  partissi.  Non  vorrei  che  sdegnassi,  e  per- 
dermi  el  mio,  e  stare  mal  posso.  Hogli  scritto  una  lettera,  e 
aspetto  la  risposta.  Pure  se  Buonarroto  sta  in  pericolo,  av- 
visate,  perche  lasciero  ogni  cosa.  Fate  buoui  provvedimenti, 
e  che  e'  non  manchi  per  danari  per  aiutarlo.  Andate  a  Santa 
Maria  Nuova  allo  spedalingo,  e  mostrategli  la  mia  lettera  se 
non  vi  presta  fede,  e  fatevi  dare  cinquanta  o  cento  ducati, 
quegli  che  bisognano,  e  non  abbiate  rispetto  nessuno.  Non 
vi  date  passione,  perche  Dio  non  ci  ha  creati  per  abband- 
onarci.  llispondete  subito,  e  ditemi  resoluto,  se  ho  a  venire 
3  no. 

"  Vostro  MICHELAGXIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma." 

Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  7. 

"Padre  carissimo, — Io  per  1'  ultima  vostra  ho  avuto  gran- 
dissima  passione,  intendendo  come  Buonarroto  sta  male.  Pero 
subito,  visto  la  presente,  andate  allo  spedalingo,  e  fatevi  dare 
cinquanta  o  cento  ducati  bisognandovi,  e  fate  che  sia  provvisto 
ben  di  tutte  le  cose  necessarie,  e  che  e'  non  manchi  per  danari. 
Awisovi,  come  io  resto  avere  qua  dal  papa  ducati  cinquecento 
guadagnati,  e  altrettanti  me  ne  dovea  dare  per  fare  el  ponte  e 
seguitare  1'  altra  parte  dell'  opera  mia,  e  lui  s'  e  partito  di  qua, 
e  non  m'  ha  lasciato  ordine  nessuno.  Io  gli  ho  scritto  una 
lettera.  Non  so  quello  che  seguitera.  Io  sarei  venuto,  subito 
che  io  ebbi  la  vostra  ultima,  insino  costa,  ma  se  partissi  senza 
licenza,  dubito,  el  papa  non  si  cruciassi,  e  che  io  non  perdessi 
quello  che  ho  avere.  Non  di  manco,  se  Buonarroto  stessi  pur 
male,  avvisate  subito,  perche,  se  vi  pare,  montero  in  subito 
sulle  poste,  e  saro  costa  in  dua  di,  perche'  gli  uomini  vagliono 
piu  che  e1  danari.  Avvisate  subito,  perche  sto  con  gran 
passione.  Vostro  MICHKLAGXIOLO,  Scultore  in  lloma. 

"  A.  di  7  di  settembre." 


5iO  LIFE   OP  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  26. 

"Padre  carissimo, — lo  andai  martedl  a  parlare  al  papa,  il 
perche  v'  avvisero  piti  per  agio.  Basta  che  mercoledi  mattina 
10  vi  ritornai,  e  lui  mi  (fece)  pagare  quattro  cento  ducati  d' 
oro  di  camera,  de'  quali  ne  mando  costa  trecento  d'  oro  larghi, 
e  per  trecento  ducati  d'  oro  larghi  ne  do  qua  agli  Altoviti,  che 
costa  sien  pagati  a  voi  dagli  Strozzi.  Pero  fate  la  quitanza  che 
stien  bene,  e  portategli  allo  spedalingo,  e  fategh  acconciare 
come  gli  altri,  e  rammentategli  el  podere,  e  se  lui  vi  da  parole, 
ingegnatevi  comperare  da  altri,  quando  veggiate  esser  sicuro, 
e  per  insino  a  mille  quattro  cento  ducati  vi  do  licenza  gli 
possiate  spendere.  Menate  con  voi  Buonarroto,  e  pregate  lo 
spedalingo  che  ci  voglia  servire.  Fate  il  possibile  comperare 
da  lui,  perch&  e  pitl  sicuro. 

"  lo  vi  scrissi  che  le  mie  cose,  o  disegni,  o  altro,  non  fussino 
tocco  da  nessuno.  Non  mene  avete  risposto  niente.  Pare 
che  voi  non  leggiate  le  mie  lettere.  Non  altro.  Pregate 
Iddio  che  io  abbi  onore  qua,  e  che  io  contenti  el  papa ;  perche 
spero,  se  lo  contento,  aremo  qualche  bene  da  lui.  E  ancora 
pregate  Dio  per  lui. 

"  Vostro  MICHELAGXIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma." 

Without  date ;  but  this  letter  may  be  decided  on  by  No.  27 
of  the  letters  to  his  father,  in  which  he  asks  for  information 
respecting  the  arrival  of  the  money  and  the  purchase.  Under- 
neath is  "  A  di  undici  ottobre." 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  22. 

"Buonarroto, — Io  ebbi  ieri  cinque  cento  ducati  d'  oro  di 
camera  dal  datario  del  papa.  463i  he  has  given  to  Giov. 
Balducci,  so  that  he  may  pay  Bonifazio  at  Florence  450  due. 
d'oro  larghi,  etc.  Se  tu  vedi  Michelagniolo  Tanagli,  digli  per 
mia  parte,  che  da  dua  mesi  in  qua  io  ho  avuta  tanta  noia  e  pas- 
sione,  che  io  non  ho  potuto  scrivergli  niente,  e  che  io  faro 
quanto  potro  di  trovare  qualche  corniola  o  qualche  medaglia 
buona  per  lui,  e  ringraziolo  del  cacio,  e  di  quest'  altro  sabato 
gli  scrivero.  MICHELAGNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma. 

"  A  di  ventisei  d'ottobre  1510." 

On  the  address  the  day  of  its  arrival  is  noted  down,  the  31st 
October,  1510. 

LXXI.—  PAGE  386. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  19,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 

Museum. 

At  the  close,  "  Tiene  serrato  il  cassone  che  e'  mie  panni  nou 
sieno  rubati  come  a  Gismondo.  11  genn.  1510. 

"  MlCHELAGXIOLO    DE    BuOXARROTA    SlMOXI, 

"  Scultore  in  Roma." 


APPENDIX.  541 


Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  21. 

"  Buonarroto, — In  questa  sara  una  di  Messere  Agniolo. 
Dalla  subito.  lo  credo  che  e'  mi  bisogneva  infra  pochi  di 
ritornare  a  Bologna,  perche"  el  datario  del  papa,  con  chi  io 
venni  da  Bologna  mi  promesse,  quando  parti  di  qua,  che  subito 
ch'  e'  fussi  a  Bologna  mi  farebbe  provvedere,  che  io  potrei 
lavorare.  E  un  mese  che  ando,  ancora  non  ho  inteso  niente 
Aspettero  ancora  tutta  questa  settimana.  Di  poi  credo,  se  altro 
non  c'  &'  andare  a  Bologna,  e  passero  di  costa.  Non  altro. 
Avvisane  Lodovico,  e  di'  che  io  sto  bene. 

"  MICHELAGNIOLO,  Scultore  in  Roma. 

"  A  di  ventitre  1510." 

On  the  address :  "  Da  Roma  di  febbraio  1510  (Flor.  style.)" 

LXXH.  — PAGE  411. 

Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  12,  in  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

LXXIIL  —  PAGE  415. 

"  Depinger  a  damaschi."  I  have  translated  the  passage 
quite  freely,  only  to  express  the  contrast. 

LXXIV.  — PAGE  415. 

Terribile  can  relate  also  to  things.  Vas.,  x.  15 :  "  Accrebbe 
(Antonio  di  Sangallo)  la  sala  grande  della  detta  capella  di 
Sisto,  facendovi  in  due  lunette  in  testa  quelle  finestrone  terri- 
bili,  con  si  maravigliosi  lumi,"  etc. 

LXXV.  — PAGE  416. 

It  is  strange  that  he  should  call  himself  here  Michael  Ange- 
Io1s  godson ;  and  the  christening  of  his  child,  to  whom  Michael 
Angelo  stood  sponsor,  only  occurred  in  the  year  1519. 

LXXVL  — PAGE  416. 
I  suppose  this  because  the  proportions  seem  to  agree. 

LXXVIL  — PAGE  419. 

Michael  Angelo's  papers,  which  came  into  the  possession  of 
the  British  Museum,  have  been  bound  up  in  three  volumes  :  the 
first  two  of  which  contain  the  correspondence  with  his  father 
and  brother ;  and  the  third,  various  separate  documents,  the  first 
of  which  is  the  following  :  — 


542  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


"Ne1  primi  anni  di  papa  Julio,  credo  che  fussi  el  secondo 
anno  che  io  andai  a  star  seco,  dopo  mold  disegni  della  sua 
sepultura  uno  gnene  piacque,  sopr'  al  quale  facemmo  el  mer- 
eato,  e  tolsila  a  fare  per  dieci  mila  ducati,  e  andandovi  di  marrai 
ducati  mille,  me  gli  fece  pagare,  credo  dal  Salviati  in  Firenze, 
e  mandommi  pe'  manni.  Andai,  condussi  e'  marmi  a  Roma  e1 
uomini,  e  cominciai  a  lavorare  el  quadro  e  le  figure,  di  che  e1  & 
ancora  degli  uomini  che  vi  lavororono,  e  in  capo  d'  otto  o  nove 
mesi  el  papa  si  mutd  d'  opinione,  e  non  la  volse  seguitare,  e  io, 
trovandomi  in  sulla  spesa  grande,  e  non  mi  volendo  dar  sua 
Santita  danari  per  detta  opera,  dolendouii  seco,  gli  dette  fasti- 
dio,  in  modo  che  mi  f<£  cacciar  di  camera.  Ond'  io,  pei 
isdegno,  mi  parti  subito  di  Roma,  e  ando  male  tutto  1'ordine 
che  10  avevo  fatto  per  simile  opera,  che  del  mio  mi  costo  pill  di 
trecento  ducati,  simil  disordine  senza  '1  tempo  mio,  e  di  sei 
mesi  che  io  ero  stato  a  Carrara,  che  io  non  ebbi  mai  niente,  e 
e'  marmi  detti  si  restorno  in  sulla  piazza  di  San  Pietro.  Di 
poi  circa  sette  o  otto  mesi  che  io  stetti  quasi  ascoso  per  paura, 
sendo  crucciato  meco  el  papa,  mi  bisogno  per  forza,  non  pos- 
sendo  star  a  Firenze,  andare  a  domandargli  misericordia  a 
Bologna,  che  fu  la  prima  volta  che  e'  v1  ando,  dove  mi  vi  tenne 
circa  du'  anni  a  fare  la  sua  statua  di  bronzo  che  fu  alta  a  sedere 
sei  braccia,  e  la  convenzione  fu  questa,  domandandomi  papa 
Julio  quello  che  si  veniva  di  detta  figura,  gli  disse  che  non  era 
mia  arte  el  gittar  di  bronzo  e  che  io  credevo  con  mille  ducati 
d'  oro  gittarla,  ma  che  non  sapevo  se  mi  riuscirebbe.  E  lui  mi 
disse,  gittera'  la  tante  volte  che  la  riesca,  e  daremti  tanti  danari 
quanto  bisognera.  E  mando  per  Messere  Antonio  Maria  dal- 
legnia  (Antonio  Maria  da  Lignano)  e  dissegli  che  a  mio  piacere 
mi  pagassi  mille  ducati.  Io  1'ebbi  a  gettar  dua  volte.  Io  posso 
mostrare  avere  speso  in  cera  trecento  ducati,  aver  tenuti  molti 
garzoni,  e  aver  dato  a  maestro  Bernardino,  che  fu  maestro  d' 
artiglieri  della  Signoria  di  Firenze,  trenta  ducati  el  mese  alia 
spesa,  e  averlo  tenuto  parecchi  mesi.  Basta  che  all'  ultima, 
messa  la  figura,  dove  ave'  ne  a  stare,  con  gran  miseria,  in  capo 
di  dua  anni  mi  trovai  avanzati  quattro  ducati  e  mezzo,  di  che 
io  di  detta  opera  sola  stimo  giustamente  poterne  domandare  a 
papa  Julio  piu  di  mille  ducati  d'  oro,  perche  uon  ebbi  mai  altro 
che  c'  primi  mille  com'  £  detto. 

"  Di  poi,  tornando  a  Roma,  non  volse  ancora  che  io  seguissi 
la  sepultura,  e  volse  che  io  dipignessi  la  volta  di  Sisto,  di  che 
fummo  d'  accordo  di  tre  mila  ducati  a  tutti  mie  spese  con  poche 
figure  semplicemente.  Poi  che  io  ebbi  fatto  certi  disegni,  mi 
parve  che  riuscissi  cosa  povera,  onde  lui  mi  rifece  un'  altra 
allogazione  insino  alle  storie  di  sotto,  e  che  io  facessi  nella 
volta  quello  che  io  voleva,  che  montava  circa  altrettanto,  <; 
cosi  fummo  d'accordo ;  onde  poi,  finita  la  volta,  quando  veniva 


APPENDIX.  64o 


T  utile,  la  cosa  non  and6  innanzi,  in  modo  che  io  stimo  restare 
avere  parecchi  centinaia  di  ducati.'' 

The  rest  is  missing.  It  is  therefore  impossible  to  decide  at 
what  time  the  document  was  drawn  up.  It  may  have  be"en  in 
the  twenties,  thirties,  or  forties  of  the  century,  to  serve  in  the 
arrangements  with  Urbino.  The  comparison  With  the  letter 
published  by  Ciampi  is  interesting,  and  the  authenticity  of  the 
latter  is  confirmed  by  it. 

I  have  modernized  the  outward  form  of  the  document,  with- 
out having  lost  sight  of  the  peculiarities  which  have  a  right  to 
be  considered.  Michael  Angelo  writes,  "  Xe  primi  anni  di 
papa  iulio  credo  ch  fussi  elsechodo  anno  ch  io  andai  astar  secho 
doppo  mold  disegni,"  etc. 

The  second  number  is  the  original  of  the  well-known  receipt 
of  the  10th  May,  1.008.  The  third,  however,  is  a  description  of 
the.  mausoleum,  probably  as  it  was  newly  projected  in  1513. 

"  L'  inio  d'  ella  e  largo  nella  faccia  dinanzi  braccia  undici 
fiorentine  nel  circa  nella  quale  larghezza  si  muove  in  sul  piano 
della  terra  uuo  imbasamento,  con  quattro  zoccoli,  ovvero 
quattro  dadi,  collo  loro  cimas  (a)  che  ricigne  per  tutto.  In 
su'  quali  vanno  quattro  figure  toude  di  marmo,  di  tre  braccia  e 
mezzo  1'  una,  e  drieto  alle  dette  figure,  in  sunogni  dado,  viene 
'1  suo  pilastro,  che  vanno  alti  insino  alia  prima  cornice,  la 
quale  va  alta  dal  piano,  dove  posa  1'  imbasamento,  in  su 
braccia  sei.  E'  dua  pilastri  co'  lor  zoccoli  da  uno  de1  lati  met- 
tono  in  mezzo  un  tabernacolo,  el  quale  e  alto,  il  vano,  braccia 
quattro  e  mezzo.  E  similmente  dall'  altra  banda  mettono  in 
mezzo  un  altro  tabernacolo  simile,  che  vengono  a  essere  dua 
tabernacoli  nella  faccia  dinanzi,  dalla  prima  cornice  in  giii. 
ne1  quali  in  ognuno  viene  una  figura,  simile  alle  sopra  dette. 
Di  poi  frail'  uno  tabernacolo  e  I1  altro  resto  un  vano  di  braccia 
dua  e  mezzo,  alto  per  insino  alia  prima  cornice,  nel  quale  va 
una  storia  di  bronzo.  E  la  detta  opera  va  murata  tanto  dis- 
costo  al  muro,  quant'  e  la  larghezza  d'  uno  de'  tabernacoii 
detti,  che  sono  nella  faccia  dinanzi. 

"E  nelle  rivolte  della  detta  faccia,  che  vanno  al  muro,  cio£ 
nelle  teste,  vanno  dua  tabernacoli,  simili  a  que'  dinanzi,  co1 
lor  zoccoli,  e  colle  loro  figure  di  simile  grandezza,  che  vengono 
a  essere  figure  dodici  e  una  storia,  com1  e  detto,  dalla  prima 
cornire  in  giu. 

"  E  dalla  prima  cornice  in  su,  sopra  e'  pilastri,  che  mettono 
in  mezzo  e'  tabernacoli  di  sotto,  viene  altri  dadi  con  loro 
adornamenti.  Suvvi  mezze  colonne,  che  vanno  insino  all' 
ullima  cornice,  cioe  vanno  alte  braccia  otto  dalla  prima  alia 
Rcconda  cornice,  ch'  e  suo  finimento.  E  da  una  delle  bandc, 
in  mezzo  delle  dua  colonne,  viene  uno  certo  vano,  nel  quale 
va  uua  figura  a  sedere,  alta  a  sedere  braccia  tre  e  mezzo 


544  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

fiorentine.  E'  1  simile  viene  fra  1'  altre  dua  colonne  dall'  altra 
banda,  e  fra  '1  capo  delle  dette  figure  e  1'  ultima  cornice  resta 
un  vano  di  circa  tre  braccia,  simile  per  ogni  verso,  nel  quale 
va  una  storia  per  vano  di  bronzo,  che  vengono  a  essere  tre 
storie  nella  faccia  dinanzi.  E  fra  1'  una  figura  a  sedere  e  1' 
altre  dinanzi'  resta  un  vano,  che  viene  sopra  el  vano  della 
storia  del  mezzo  di  sotto,  nel  quale  viene  una  certa  trebunetta, 
nella  quale  viene  la  figura  del  morto,  cio£  di  papa  Julio,  con 
du'  altre  figure,  che  la  mettono  in  mezzo,  e  una  nostra  donna, 
pur  di  marmo,  alta  braccia  quattro  simile.  E  sopra  e'  taberna- 
coli  delle  teste,  ovvero  delle  rivolte  della  parte  di  sotto,  viene 
li  rivolti  della  parte  di  sopra,  nelli  quali,  in  ognuna  delle  dua, 
viene  una  figura  a  sedere  in  mezzo  di  dua  mezze  colonne,  con 
una  storia  di  sopra,  simile  a  quelle  dinanzi." 
• 

LXXVIIL—  PAGE  421. 
Hiitten's  epigram  in  Booking,  i.  102. 

LXX1X.  — PAGE  435 

I  would  even  make  the  tapestries  for  the  Sistina  into  an 
order  given  by  Julius,  which  Leo  only  took  upon  himself.  In 
the  early  years  of  Leo's  rule,  Raphael  was  largely  employed 
in  the  embossed  work,  and  he  must  have  had  besides  at  this 
time  to  draw  the  first  series  of  the  cartoons.  Leo  became 
pope  at  Easter,  1514.  In  June,  1515,  Raphael  received  his 
first  payment  for  the  cartoons.  Thus,  scarcely  a  year  would 
have  been  allowed  him,  with  all  his  other  great  works,  for  the 
first  production  of  these  immense  compositions.  Even  if  his 
pupils  helped  him,  the  time  appears  too  short.  The  preparato- 
ry ideas  at  least  must  have  had  an  earlier  date.  The  tapestries 
also  form  the  necessary  conclusion  to  the  interior  decoration 
of  the  chapel. 

LXXX.— PAGE  438. 

Letters  to  his  Father,  No.  12,  in  the  possession  of  the  Brit- 
ish Museum. 

LXXXL— PAGE  440. 

In  the  spring  of  1515,  Michael  Angelo  was  in  Florence, 
perhaps  after  he  had  spent  the  winter  there.  This  is  shown  by 
a  letter  to  his  brothers.  Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  23,  in  the 
possession  of  the  British  Museum.  He  says  that  he  had 
reached  Rome  safely :  ' '  Pregoti  che  tu  mi  mandi  quel  pirpig- 
nano  piii  presto  che  tu  puoi,  e  tollo  di  quello  colore  pieno  che 
lu  mi  mostrasti  un  saggio,  e  fa  sopr1  ogni  cosa  che  sia  bcllo,  e 


APPENDIX.  545 

to'ne  cinque  braccia  e  fa  di  mandarlo  o  pel  i'ante  o  per  altri." 
Only  be  very  quick.  He  is  to  ask  the  Spedalingo  whether  he 
can  pay  him  395  ducats.  What  the  perpignan  costs,  is  to  be 
taken  out  of  it,  —  only  quickly.  It  is  to  be  addressed  to  him 
or  to  Domenico  Buoninsegni,  "in  palazzo  in  casa  el  cardinale 
de1  Medici."  The  28th  April.  No  year.  But  this  is  showr 
by  a  notice  on  the  address. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  24. 

He  has  received  the  perpignan,  "  e"  buono  e  bello,"  also  the 
remittance;  but  he  did  not  ask  for  "ducati  di  camera,"  but 
"  d'  oro  larghi."  He  does  not  wish  for  these  :  he  sends  the  let- 
ter back,  and  begs  for  another. 

On  the  address :  "A  di  19  di  Maio  1515." 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  26. 

He  is  to  send  him  1,400  ducats  from  Spedalingo,  —  "  perchd 
qua  mi  bisogna  fare  sforzo  grande  questa  state  di  finire  presto 
questo  lavoro,  perche"  stimo  poi  avere  a  essere  ai  servizi  del 
papa,  e  per  questo  ho  comperato  forse  venti  migliaia  di  rame, 
per  gittar  certe  figure.  Bisognami  danari."  Pier  Franc0  Bor- 
ghenni,  his  friend,  had  better  undertake  the  payment.  Noth- 
ing of  the  matter  is  to  be  spoken  of  in  Florence. 

On  the  address  :  "A  di  16  di  giugno  1515." 

LXXXIL  —  PAGE  442. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  35,  in  the  possession  of  the 
British  Museum. 

LXXXHL—  PAGE  443. 

Memorial  of  Michael  Angela's  respecting  the  building  of  the 
facade  of  San  Lorenzo,  in  tJie  possession  of  tJie  Berlin  Mu- 
seum. 

"Send'  io  a  Carrara  per  mia  faccende  doe"  per  niarmi  per 
condurre  a  Roma  per  la  sepultura  di  papa  Julio  nel  mille 
cinque  cento  sedici,  mando  per  me  papa  Leone  per  conto  della 
facciata  di  San  Lorenzo,  che  volea  fare  in  Firenze.  Ond'  io  a 
di  cinque  di  dicembre  mi  parti  di  Carrara,  e  andai  a  Roma,  e 
la  fed  uno  disegno  per  detta  facciata,  sopr'  al  quale  detto  papa 
Leone  mi  dette  commessione,  ch'  io  facessi  a  Carrara  cavare 
niarmi  per  detta  opera.  Di  poi,  send'  io  tomato  da  Roma  a 
Carrara  1'  ultimo  di  dicembre  sopra  detto,  mandommi  la  papa 
Leone  per  cavare  e'  marnii  di  detta  opera  ducati  mille  per  le 
iiiani  di  Jacopo  Salviati,  e  portogli  uno  suo  servitore  detto 


546  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


Bentivoglio,  e  ricevetti  detti  danari  circa  a  otto  di  del  mcso 
vegnente,  cioe  di  gennaio,  e  cosi  ne  feci  quitanza.  Di  poi,  I1 
agosto  vegnente  sendo  richiesto  dal  papa  sopradetto  del  mo- 
dello  di  detta  opera,  venni  da  Carrara  a  Firenze  a  farlo,  e  cosi 
lo  feci  di  legname  in  forma  propria  con  le  figure  di  cera,  e 
manddgniene  a  Roma.  Subito  che  lo  vide  mi  fece  andare  la,  e 
cosi  andai,  e  tolsi  sopra  di  me  in  cottimo  la  detta  facciata,  come 
apparisce  per  la  scritta  clie  ho  con  sua  Santita,  e  bisognandomi 
per  servire  sua  Santita  condurre  a  Firenze  e'  marmi  clie  io 
avevo  a  condurre  a  Roma  per  la  sepultura  di  Papa  Julio,  coin' 
io  ho  condotti  e  di  poi  lavorati,  ricondurgli  a  Roma,  mi 
promesse  cavarmi  di  tutte  queste  spese,  cio&  gabella  e  noli,  clie 
e  una  spesa  di  circa  ottocento  ducati,  bench£  la  scritta  non  lo 
dica. 

"E  a  di  sei  di  febbraio  mille  cinque  cento  diciassette  tornai 
da  Roma  a  Firenze,  e  avend'  io  tolto  in  cottimo  la  facciata  di  San 
Lorenzo  sopradetta,  tutta  a  mia  spese,  e  avcndomi  a  fare 
pagare  in  Firenze  detto  papa  Leone  quattro  mila  ducati  per 
conto  di  detta  opera,  come  apparisce  per  la  scritta,  a  di  circa 
venticinque  ebbi  da  Jacopo  Salviati  ducati  ottocento  per  detto, 
e  fece  quitanza,  e  andai  a  Carrara,  e  non  mi  sendola  osservato 
contratti  e  allogazioni,  fatte  prima  di  marmi  per  detta  opere,  e 
volendomi  e'  Carraresi  assediare,  andai  a  far  cavare  detti 
marmi  a  Serravezza,  montagne  di  Pietra-santa  in  su  quello  de' 
Fiorentini.  E  quivi  avend'  io  gia  fatte  bozzare  sei  colonne,  d' 
undici  braccia  e  mezzo  1'  una,  e  molti  altri  marmi,  e  fattovi  1' 
aviamento  che  oggi  si  vede  fatto,  che  mai  piii  vi  fu  cavato 
innanzi,  a  di  venti  di  marzo  mille  cinquecento  diciotto  venni  a 
Firenze  per  danari  per  cominciare  a  condurre  detti  marmi,  e  a 
di  venti  sei  di  marzo  mille  cinque  cento  diciannove  mi  fece 
pagare  el  cardinale  de'  Medici  per  detta  opera  per  papa  Leone 
da'  Gaddi  di  Firenze  ducati  cinque  cento,  e  cosi  ne  feci  quit- 
anza. Di  poi  in  questo  tempo  medesimo  el  cardinale  per  com- 
messione  del  papa  mi  fermd  che  io  non  seguissi  pid  1'opera 
sopradetta,  perch£  dicevono  volermi  torre  questa  noia  del  con- 
durre e'  marmi,  e  che  megli  volevono  dare  in  Firenze  loro,  e  far 
nuova  convenzione,  e  cosi  &  stata  la  cosa  per  insino  a  oggi.. 

"  Ora  in  questo  tempo  avendo  mandato  per  gli  operai  di 
Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  una  certaquantita  di  scarpellini  a  Pie- 
trasanta  owero  a  Serravezza  a  occupare  1'aviamento,  e  torini  e' 
marmi  che  io  ho  fatti  cavare  per  la  facciata  di  San  Lorenzo,  per 
fare  il  pavimento  di  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  e  volendo  ancora 
papa  Leone  seguire  la  facciata  di  San  Lorenzo,  e  avendo  el 
cardinale  de'  Medici  fatta  1'allogazione  de'  marmi  si  detta 
facciata  a  altri  che  a  me,  e  avendo  dato  a  quest!  tali  che  hanno 
preso  detta  condotta  1'aviamento  mio  di  Serravezza  sanza  far 
conto  meco,  mi  sono  doluto  assai,  perchS  ne  '1  cardinale  n£  gli 


APPENDIX.  547 

opera!  non  potevono  entrare  nelle  cose  mia,  se  prima  non  m1 
ero  spiccato  (T  accordo  dal  papa ;  e  nel  lasciare  detta  (facciata 
scil.)  di  San  Lorenzo  d'aec'ordo  col  papa,  mostrando  le  spese 
fatte  e  danari  ricevuti,  detto  aviamento  e  inarmi  e  masseritie 
sarebbono  di  necessita  tocche  o  a  sua  Santita  o  a  me,  e  1'  una 
parte  all1  altra  dopo  questo  ne  poteva  fare  quello  voleva. 

"  Ora  sopra  quosta  cosa  il  cardinale  in1  ha  detto  che  io  mostri 
e'  danari  ric-evuti  e  le  spese  fatte,  e  die  mi  vuola  liberare,  per 
potcre,  e  per  1'  opera  e  per  se,  torre  que'  niarmi  che  vuole  nel 
sopra.  lotto  aviamento  di  Serravezza. 

"  Pero  io  mostro  avere  ricevuti  dumila  trecento  ducati  ne1 
modi  e  tempi  che  di  questa  si  contiene,  e  ho  mostri  ancora 
avere  spesi  mille  ottocento  ducati  che  di  questi  c'  £  ne  spesi 
circa  dugento  cinquanta  in  parte  de'  noli  d'  Arno  de?  marmi 
della  sepultura  di  papa  Julio,  che  io  ho  condotti  a  lavorare  qui 
per  servire  papa  Julio  a  Roma,  che  sard  una  spesa  di  pid  di 
cinque  cento  duc'ati.  Non  gli  metto  ancora  a  conto  il  modello 
di  legname  della  facciata  delta  che  io  gli  mandai  a  Roma.  Non 
gli  metto  ancora  a  conto  il  tempo  di  tre  anni  che  io  ho  perduti 
in  questo.  Non  gli  metto  a  conto  che  io  sono  rovinato  per 
detta  opera  di  San  Lorenzo.  Non  gli  metto  a  conto  il  vitupero 
grandissimo  del  avermi  condotto  qua  per  far  detta  opera,  e  poi 
tormela,  e  non  so  perchd  ancora.  Non  gli  metto  a  conto  la 
casa  mia  di  Roma  che  io  ho  lasciata,  che  v1  e  ito  male  fra  marmi 
e  masseritie  e  lavoro  fatto  per  pitl  di  cinque  cento  ducati.  Non 
mettendo  a  conto  le  sopradette  cose  a  me  non  resta  in  mano  de' 
dumila  trecento  ducati  altro  che  cinquecento  ducati. 

"  Ora  noi  siamo  d1  accordo.  Papa  Leone  si  pigli  1'  aviamento 
fatto  co'  marmi  detti  cavati,  e  io  e'  danari  che  mi  restano  in 
mano,  e  che  io  resti  libero,  e  consigliommi  ch'  io  facci  fare  un 
breve,  e  che1 1  papa  Io  segnera. 

"Ora  voi  intendete  tutta  la  cosa  come  sta.  Io  vi  prego  mi 
facciate  una  minuta  di  detto  breve,  e  che  voi  acconciate  e1 
danari  ricevuti  per  detta  opera  di  San  Lorenzo  in  modo  che  e1 
non  mi  possino  essere  mai  domandati,  e  ancora  acconciate  come 
in  cambio  di  detti  danari  che  io  ho  ricevuti  papa  Leone  si  piglia 
il  sopradetto  aviamento,  marmi,  e  masseritie  "  .  . 

(8ine  loco  et  anno.) 

The  following  seems  to  belong  to  it :  — 

"  Copia  del  conto  de1  danari  spesi  per  papa  Leone  per  la 
faccia  di  San  Lorenzo." 

1st  Dec.,  1516.  To  Rome  from  Carrara.  Back  on  the  6th 
January.  Two  men  and  two  horses. 

Looking  for  pillars  in  Carrara,  50  ducats.  26  to  the  Cucher- 
ello ;  18  to  the  Macino. 

Twice  coming  from  Carrara  on  account  of  the  model  execute 
ed  by  Baccio  d'Agnolo :  two  men  and  two  horses,  one  month. 


548  LIFE  OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


Coming  from  Carrara  to  lay  the  foundation  of  the  facade : 
two  men  and  two  horses,  one  month. 

For  the  first  stone-masons  taken  back  to  Carrara,  25  ducats 
expenses  for  living,  before  a  contract  was  made  with  them. 
100  ducats  premium  after  this  was  concluded. 

Sandro  di  Poggio,  100  due.  His  brother,  Master  Domenico, 
100  due.  Zucha,  150  due.  Bardoccio,  100  due.  Michele,  18 
due.  Donato,  56  due.  Francesco  Peri,  260  due.  Convey- 
ance of  the  first  pillar,  60  due. ;  of  the  second,  30  due.  Marble 
in  Florence  which  I  intend  for  a  figure,  60  due. 

Sent  to  Carrara  for  other  figures,  52  due.  Pietro,  li  month, 
with  a  horse  and  boy.  Eight  months  there  myself  with  two 
men  and  two  horses.  Marble  quarries  in  Serravezza,  40  due. 
Boatmen  and  carriers,  250  due.  30  due.  loss  through  the 
stone-masons  in  Pietra  Santa. 

It  breaks  off. 

Again  the  same  packet :  — 

"  Venni  per  fare  il  modello  da  Carrara,  e  amualammi,  di  poi 
lo  feci,  e  mandai  Pietro  con  esso  a  Roma,  di  poi  andai  io,  che 
furono  circa  tre  mesi,  ogni  cosa  a  mia  spese,  salvo  che  le 
giornate  d'  un  garzone  che  c'  era  che  pago  Bernardo  Niccolini. 

"Fui  ancora  mandate  da  Roma  a  Serravezza  innanzi  vi  si 
cominciasse  a  cavare  a  vedere  se  v1  era  marmi,  che  spesi  in 
quella  gita  circa  venticinque  ducati. 

"  De1  danni  mia,  non  si  sequitando  la  sopradetta,  a  Roma  le 
masseritie  di  casa,  marmi,  e  lavori  fatti. 

"A  levare  e'  marmi  lavorati  di  Firenze,  e  ricondurgli  a 
Roma,  e'  1  tempo  che  io  non  ho  lavorato  per  questo  conto." 

As  address  on  the  paper :  — 

"  Scritta  di  papa  Leone  della  facciata  di  San  Lorenzo." 

LXXXIV.— PAGE  443. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci-album,  with  notes  by  Waagen.  Berlin, 
G.  Schauer.  Without  date.  Sheet  9th. 

"Kaum  hatte  der  um  jene  Zeit  (1514)  in  Florenz  be- 
schaftigte  Michel-Angelo  von  der  Anwesenheit  des  Leonardo 
in  Rom  etwas  vernommen,  als  er  sich  unter  dem  Vorwande, 
class  der  Papst  ihn  wegen  der  Facade  von  San  Lorenzo  in 
Florenz  zu  sich  bescheiden  habe,  bei  dem  Giuliano  de'  Medici 
beurlaubte  und  nach  Rome  eilte,  um  seinem  alten  Gegner,  von 
dem  er  besorgen  mochte,  dass  er  seiner  Stellung  und  seinem 
Einfluss  dort  gefahrlich  werden  konne,  sofort  entgegenzutreten. 
Dieses  wurde  ihm  aber  erspart,  denn  als  Lionardo  von  der 
Ankunft  des  Michel-angelo  in  Rome  Kunde  erhalten,  reiste  er 
eofort  nach  Mailand  ab." 

Vasari,  on  the  contrary,  from  whom  alone  matters  of  this 


APPENDIX.  549 

kind  could  be  taken,  as  no  other  source  exists,  says  the  follow- 
ing :  — 

"Era  sdegno  grandissimo  fra  Michelagnolo  Buonarroti  e  lui 
(Lionardo  scil.)  per  il  che  parti  di  Fiorenza  Michelagnolo  per 
la  concorrenza,  con  la  scusa  del  duca  Giuliano,  essendo  chia- 
mato  del  papa  per  la  facciata  di  San  Lorenzo ;  Lionardo  iiiten- 
dendo  cio,  parti  ed  ando  in  Francia." 

Perhaps  quando  should  be  inserted  after  per  il  che,  and  has 
been  omitted  by  mistake. 

Vasari  thinks  that  Michael  Angelo  was  summoned  to  Rome 
by  the  pope  to  take  part  in  the  competition  going  on  there  for 
the  facade  of  San  Lorenzo.  Duke  Giuliano,  at  that  time  reign- 
ing in  Florence,  allows  Michael  Angelo  to  set  out,  because  the 
pope  has  issued  this  summons.  Lionardo,  when  he  hears  that 
Michael  Angelo  has  been  summoned,  and  will  come,  sets  out 
for  France. 

Waagen  makes  out  of  this,  that  Michael  Angelo  hears  that 
Lionardo  is  in  Rome.  He  at  once  hastens  thither  also  to  pre- 
vent Lionardo  from  opposing  his  influence  there.  In  order  to 
leave  Florence,  he  pretends  to  Duke  Giuliano,  that  the  pope 
lias  summoned  him  to  Rome.  Lionardo  hears  tlu's,  and  sets  out 
directly. 

Waagen  understands  part I  — per  la  concorrenza,  as  if  Michael 
Angelo  had  gone  to  Rome  to  compete  with  Lionardo,  and  con 
la  scusa  del  duca  Giuliano,  essendo  cJiiamaio  dal  papa,  as  if  it 
were,  scusando  la  sua  partita  appresso  il  duca  Giuliano  col 
pretesto  di  esser  cliiamato  dal  papa,  etc. 

Vasari  passes  over  the  incident  in  Michael  Angelo's  life. 

Of  all  that  has  been  said  against  Michael  Angelo  by  subse- 
quent authors,  I  will  only  here  mention  Passavant's  attack  in 
his  Life  of  Raphael. 

In  the  first  volume,  on  page  182,  which  he  heads  with  the 
title,  "  Michael  Angelo's  Quarrelsomeness,"  he  blames  that 
letter  of  Michael  Angelo's,  first  published  by  Ciampi,  and 
says,  — 

' '  Der  ton  des  Briefes  zeugte  von  einer  grossen  Reizbarkeit 
des  Michel-angelo,  wodurch  dieser  Kunstler  von  Juzend  auf 
in  Missverhaltnissen  lebte  und  unertraglich  gegeniiber  alien 
denen  erscheint,  die  sich  ihm  nicht  ganzlich  unterwarfen." 

This  letter,  which  only  mentions  Bramante  and  Raphael  inci- 
dentally, was  written  twenty  years  after  Raphael's  death,  and 
its  tone  of  irritation  was  thoroughly  justifiable.  The  letter  has 
no  reference  at  all  to  artists.  Michael  Angelo  never  desired 
that  his  "contemporaries  in  art"  should  yield  to  him,  to  say 
nothing  of  "entirely  yielding."  He  almost  always  worked 
alone.  He  had  never  been  in  circumstances  in  which  he  could 
show  himse.lf — "  unvertraglich  "  —  to  other  artists. 


550  LIFE   OP   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


"  Wir  wollcn  uns  bier  erinnern,"  continues  Passavant,  "  wie 
er  noch  im  Garten  de'  Medici  seine  Mitschiiler  zum  Besten 
hatte,  daher  er  ein  zerquetschtes  Nasenbein  davontrug." 

This  accusation  rests  upon  Torrigiano's  statement,  to  whose 
roughness  Michael  Angelo  owed  his  ill  usage.  What  sort  of 
man  was  Torrigiano,  and  how  he  boasted  of  the  blow,  is  rela- 
ted by  Cellini. 

"  Wie  er  verhinderte,  dass  Baccio  d'Agnolo  die  Kuppel  nes 
florentiner  Doms  vollendete." 

I  have  related  the  fact.  The  dome  was  finished.  Michael 
Angelo  only  hindered,  that,  contrary  to  the  intentions  of  its 
builder,  Brunelleschi,  those  stones  should  be  removed  which 
the  latter  had  left  standing  for  the  completion  of  the  gallery 
outside.  Baccio,  moreover,  was  intimate  with  Michael  Angelo, 
and  remained  so. 

"  So  dass  sie  noch  bis  zurn  heutigen  Tage  ihre  letzte  Zierde 
erwartet." 

Was  it  Michael  Angelo's  fault,  that  they  did  not  continue  to 
build  as  Brunelleschi  had  designed  ?  He  would  certainly  have 
been  the  first  to  assist  in  this,  had  he  been  able. 

"Wie  nach  dem  handschriftlichen  Bericht  des  Pietro  Marco 
Parenti,  im  Jahre  1504,  seine  Statue  des  David  bewacht  wer- 
den  musste,  da  Bildhauer,  die  er  verachtlich  behandelt,  sie  mit 
Steinen  werfen  wollten,  und  deren  etwa  acht  an  der  Zalil  ver- 
haftet  wurden." 

There  is  nothing  in  Parenti,  either  of  sculptors  throwing 
stones  at  the  statue,  or  of  his  treating  them  contemptuously. 

"  Wie  er  die  alteren  Meister  behandelte,  die  einen  Kuhiu 
erworben  hatten,  den  er  bei  weitem  zu  iiberstrahlen  iiberzeugt 
war ;  so  den  Pietro  Perugino,  den  er.  tolpelhaft  und  unwissend 
in  der  Kunst  schalt,  woriiber  es  zu  Klagen  vor  Gericht 
kam;" 

In  which  Perugino  lost  the  suit  disgracefully.  To  outshine 
Perugino's  fame  had  never  been  the  aim  of  Michael  Angelo's 
ambition.  Nothing  absolutely  is  known  of  "convictions"  en- 
tertained with  regard  to  it. 

"So  den  Francesco  Francia,  dem  er  Aehnliches  vorwarf,  als 
dieser  im  Beisein  vieler  Bologneser  seine  Statue  Julius1  II. 
wegen  des  schonen  Gusses  lobte,  Michel  Angelo  aber  dabei  das 
Lob  seiner  Kunst  vernachlassigt  glaubte." 

Francia  was  an  adherent  of  the  defeated  party  of  the  Benti- 
vogli.  But,  even  if  Michael  Angelo  had  answered  him  unde- 
servedly sharply,  his  words  could  never  have  wounded  Francia 
as  an  artist  or  older  master. 

"  Und  als  er  Francia's  schonen  Sohn  sah,  dies^m  sagte,  dein 
Vater  kann  schonere  lebendige  Figuren  machen  als  gemalte." 

If  this  be  true,  and  spoken  with  the  intention  of  being  mali- 


APPENDIX.  551 

clous,  it  only  stands  as  an  expression  caused  by  very  special 
circumstances ;  and,  as  it  is  the  only  one  of  its  kind,  it  cannot 
be  used  to  support  the  general  verdict  that  Michael  Angelo 
treated  older  masters  with  contempt. 

"Ferner  erinnern  wir  uns,  wie  er  mit  Lionardo  da  Vinci,  als 
dieser  sich  zur  Zeit  Leo  X.  in  Rom  befand  in  heftigen  Streit 
gerieth,  und  ihn  aus  Rom  verdrangte." 

Enough  has  been  said  on  this  point. 

"Endlich  wie  er  durch  seine  Unvertragliehkeit  mit  andern 
Kiinstlern  daran  Schuld  war,  dass  die  vom  Papst  Leo  X., 
beabsichtigte  Vollendung  der  Kirchen-fagade  von  San  Lorenzo 
zu  Florenz  nicht  zu  Stande  kam." 

He  wished  to  work  alone,  and  this  was  granted  him.  Why 
the  facade  was  not  built  is  before  explained. 

"Alle  diese  und  noch  andere  Thatsachen  beweisen,  dass 
Michel-angelo  nicht  ntir  uberaus  reizbar  war." 

He  was  irritable :  it  does  not  follow,  however,  from  the  facts 
alleged  by  Passavant,  which  are  altogether  false  and  useless.* 

' '  Sondern  auch,  dass  er  sich  u'ber  alle  andern  Kiinstler  erhob 
und  sie  oft  mit  Geringschatzung  behandelte." 

To  give  force  to  this  conclusion,  Passavant  refers  to  the 
opinion  of  one  of  his  biographers,  whom  he,  however,  only 
quotes  in  Italian.  They  are  words  of  Condivi's,  who  expresses 
himself  in  the  following  manner :  Michael  Angelo  was  never 
envious  of  others,  even  when  they  produced  works  in  that  art 
which  was  his  own,  and  this  rather  from  innate  kindness  than 
because  he  ranked  himself  too  highly.  He  always  praised  all 
others,  even  Raphael,  etc. 

I  have  before  attempted  to  show  how  Waagen  misunderstood 
the  Italian  language  to  Michael  Angelo's  injury;  but  how 
Passavant  could  conceive  this  passage  of  Condivi's,  in  which 
there  is  nothing  but  the  purest  praise,  to  be  a  proof  of  his 
accusations  against  Michael  Angelo,  is  thoroughly  incompre- 
hensible. 

Let  us,  however,  look  at  another  passage  (i.  219),  where 
Passavant  relates  that  dispute  between  Michael  Angelo  and 
Leonardo:  "  Sicher  versa'gte  ihm  (namely,  Leonardo)  Rafael 
auch  seine  Anerkennung  nicht,  wie  er  sich  denn  uberhaupt  nach 
seiner  Liebenswiirdigkeit  freundlich  zum  alternden,  obgleich 
noch  in  mannh'cher  Kraft  stehenden  Prometheus,  wie  ihn 
(namely,  Leonardo)  Lomazzo  nennt,  wird  gehalten  haben. 

*  With  regard  to  the  "  other  facts,"  Passavant  says  in  a  note,  "  Siehe 
Vasari  in  den  Lebensbeschreibungen  der  betreffenden  Kiinstler."  Va- 
sari,  however,  contains  nothing  more,  nothing  in  the  least.  "  Siehe  auch 
den  Brief  des  Baccio  Bandinelli,  Pittoriche  I.  xxvii."  Was  Passavant 
so  little  acquainted  with  Bandinelli,  as  not  to  know  that  Bandinelli  was 
universally  despised  as  a  false  calumniator? 


552  LIFE   OF  MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


Nicht  so  Michel-angelo,  der,  wie  Vasari  berichtet,  in  heftigen 
Streit  mit  Leonardo  gereith,  so  dass  dieser,  in  seinen  Erwar- 
tungen  getauscht,  das  Jahr  darauf  Rom,  und  im  Jariuar  1516 
selbst  Florenz  verliess,  als  er  sich  wohl  abermals  durch  Michel- 
angelo von  der  Mitbewerbung  um  den  Plan  zur  Facade  der 
Basilika  S.  Lorenzo  ausgeschlossen  sah." 

What  name  are  we  to  give  to  these  statements?  Partly 
open  misrepresentations,  partly  unfounded  suppositions,  partly 
inventions  without  basis  (that  Leonardo  also  had  thought  of 
the  facade  of  .San  Lorenzo  is  nothing  else),  —  all  these  are  fab- 
ricated into  a  whole,  which  had  certainly  better  have  remained 
unpublished. 

Lastly,  we  must  rectify  what  Passavant  says  of  Sebastian  del 
Piombo's  contention  Avith  Raphael.  There  is  no  proof  exist- 
ing, that  Michael  Angelo  designedly  supported  Sebastian  as  an 
adversary  of  Raphael's.  Still  less  can  it  be  established,  that 
Raphael,  when  he  received  information  that  Michael  Angelo 
had  finished  the  design  for  Piombo's  painting,  said,  "Michael 
Angelo  shows  me  especial  favor,  in  thinking  me  worthy  to 
emulate  with  himself,  instead  of  with  Sebastian."  Passavant 
quotes  for  this,  the  Opere  di  Ant.  Mengs.  Mengs  is  no  au- 
thority at  all ;  least  of  all,  however,  in  matters  concerning 
Michael  Angelo,  whom,  as  his  writings  show,  he  did  not  un- 
derstand. The  story  is  invented.  With  all  that  I  have  here 
said  against  Passavant,  I  do  not  wish  in  the  least  to  detract 
from  his  important  merit,  but  only  to  show  on  this  one  occasion, 
just  because  it  presented  itself,  how  art-histories  have  been 
hitherto  written.  Passavant's  injustice  and  blind  aversion  to 
Michael  Angelo  arose  from  the  certainly  very  innocent  en- 
deavor to  make  his  hero,  Raphael,  appear  in  all  the  more 
brilliant  colors  ;  and  he  certainly  wrote  down  every  thing  thor- 
oughly believing  it.  Moreover,  when  he  wrote,  no  one  had 
begun  to  subject  the  sources  of  art-history  to  a  penetrating 
criticism.  Even  Rumohr  appears  very  cautious  in  what  he 
advances  against  Vasari. 

LXXXV.  — PAGE  447. 

Nos.  39-46  of  the  letters  to  Buonarroto,  in  the  possession  of 
the  British  Museum.  They  contain  much  detail. 

LXXXVL  — PAGE  453. 

The  Farnesina  has  been  recently  restored  to  an  elegant  and 
habitable  condition.  Sodoma's  paintings  have  been  restored. 
The  story  of  Pschye  is  purchasable  in  photographs  taken  from 
the  original  paintings. 


APPENDIX.  653 


LXXXVIL—  PAGE  461. 

The  Marchese  Haus,  a  German,  raised  into  the  Neapolitan 
nobility,  has  been  the  first  to  point  out  that  the  painting  in  the 
Farnesina  called  the  "Galatea"  represents  Venus  exactly  as 
Apuleius  describes  her,  whose  words  are  as  follows:  "Non 
moratur  marinum  obsequium.  adsunt  Nerei  filite  choram  canentes 
et  Portunus  casrulis  barbis  hispidus  et  gravis  piscoso  sinu  Sala- 
cia  et  auriga  parvulus  dclphini  Palsemon.  jam  passim  maria  per- 
sultantes  Tritonum  catervae,  hie  concha  sonaci  leviter  bucinat, 
ille  serico  tegmine  flagrantise  solio  obsistit,  alius  sub  ocuh's 
dominse  speculum  progerit,  currus  bijuges  alii  subnatant.  tali's 
ad  Oceanum  pergentem  Venerem  coimtatur  exercitus."  They 
describe  the  picture  so  full)-,  that  it  appears  inconceivable  how 
by  the  side  of  them  there  can  be  a  thought  given  to  the  tho- 
roughly anomalous  description  of  a  picture  by  Philostratus, 
which  was  intended  to  represent  the  triumph  of  the  nymph 
Galatea.  Passavant  declares  this  description  to  be  nothing 
less  than  the  "narrative  from  which  the  picture  was  taken" 
(I.  229)  .  This  is  the  passage  in  Philostratus  :  — 


*H  6s  kv  (iirakri  Tg  tfu^acroj?  irai&i,  rerpwpov  iektylvuv  S-vvuyovoa, 
vvTuv  re  nal  TO.VTOV  TTVEOVTUV.  Hapdivoi  6'  avTviJf  uyovai  Tpi- 
Tuvof,  al  6fj.cjal  T^f  FaPkarfiOf,  kmaTOfutjrvaai  a^af,  d  ayepw^w  TI  Kal 
mzpa  TTJV  ijviav  irparroiev.  'H  6'  i>7rcp  KE^aXrjq  ahiKoptyvpov  ft£v 
ef  TOV  Ze^vpov  alpeL,  OKIUV  eavrfj  dva.1,  Kal  iariov  T£>  up/ian,  u<)>'  ov 
avyrj  Tig  cm  TO  /I£TUTTOV  /cat  r^v  Kf(j>a/^v  f//cet,  OVTTU  Tjdiov  TOV  TIJ$ 
uv&ovg.  A.I  KOfiai  6'  avTTJe  OVK  uvclvrai  TU  Zs^vpu-  didfipoxoi  -yap  6?/  dal, 
Kal  Kpeirrovf  TOV  avEfiov.  Kal  pjv  nal  UJKUV  6e£ibf  eKKEiTai,  Tisvudv 
6taK%ivuv  TTT/XW,  Kal  uvatraiiuv  roi)g  daKTvhovt;  Trpof  drra/ltj  ru  w/wj- 
nal  utevat  v~oKVfiaivovGi,  Kal  /ua^of  vnaviaTaTai,  Kal  aide  TTJV  emyovvida 
tKteinci  ij  upa.  'O  Taped?  6e  Kal  i]  avvaxoMjyavaa  avTu  ^dptf,  f^'  d/lof, 
£>  nal  yeypaxTat,  Kal  tmipavei  TTJC  i9a/lurr77f,  olov  Kv(3spviJv  rb  apfia. 
Qaiifia,  oi  uQ&atyol-  ftTdnovat  yap  vnepopiov  TI,  Kal  avvambv  TU  fir/ 
TOV 


What  has  this  painting  in  common  with  Raphael's?  There 
is  not  one  trait  that  agrees,  while  every  word  in  Apuleius's 
suits.  Passavant  helps  himself  by  only  taking  a  few  sentences 
from  Philostratus,  and  those  containing  the  more  general  fea- 
tures, while  he  omits  every  thing  special,  in  which  the  resem- 
blance with  the  Raphael  picture  is  done  away  with. 

But  he  conceals  the  fact  that  he  has  never  seen  the  statement 
of  the  Marchese  Haus.  All  that  he  knows  of  it  is  from  a  note  of 
Rumohr's  (iii.  141),  in  which  the  book  is  quoted  in  its  first 

VOL.  i.  24 


554  LIFE   OF   MICHAEL   ANGELO. 


form,  without  the  name  of  the  author ;  and  it  is  falsely  stated, 
that  Haus  had  asserted  that  the  so-called  Galatea  was  an  "  Am- 
phitrite."  This  is  an  error  of  Ruinohr's,  the  origin  of  which  is 
easily  shown.  Haus  uses  the  name  "  Anadyomene"  instead  of 
Venus,  on  the  first  page  of  his  work ;  and  this  name  was  trans- 
formed in  Rumohr's  memory  into  "Amphitrite."  Rumohr  ad- 
hered especially  to  the  fact  that  the  picture  was  not  the  Galatea. 
He  thought  the  proofs  of  this  so  striking,  that,  careful  as  he 
always  is  of  the  conjectures  of  others,  he  expresses  himself  as 
convinced. 

In  the  third  part  of  his  book,  Passavant  returns  to  this  con- 
troversy. He  has  now  made  out  the  author  of  the  work,*  and 
speaks  as  if  he  had  read  it.  But,  from  the  fact  that  he  again 
brings  foiward  the  "Amphitrite,"  he  proves  the  contrary.  To 
put  an  end  to  any  tiling  further,  he  says,  "As  Raphael,  in  his 
letter  to  Count  Castiglione,  calls  this  picture  himself  a  Gaktea, 
its  appellation  is  not  to  be  disputed." 

This  is  directly  false.  The  passage  is  this  (Pass.,  i.  533 ;  he 
prints  the  letter  at  the  end  of  the  book  itself)  :  "Delia  Gala- 
tea mi  terrei  un  gran  maestro  se  vi  fossero  la  meta  delle  cose 
che  V.S.  mi  scrive,"  etc.  That  the  picture  in  the  Farnesina  is 
designated  by  the  name  "  Galatea,"  is  an  assumption  wliich  is 
authorized  by  no  single  syllable  in  the  letter. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  descriptions  of  the  Farnesina  in  the 
years  1511  and  1512,  quoted  also  by  Pungileoni,  mention  a 
Venus  drawn  on  a  shell. 

"  Talis  data  gratia  picto  est, 
Lacdat  opus  merito  veterum  — 
Heic  Juno  ut  veris  vehitur  pavonibus:  exstat 
Heic  Venus  orta  mari,  et  concha  subsidera  fertur: 
Heic  Boreas  raptam  ferus  aveb.it  Oritbyam." 

Thus  Blasio  Palladia,  1512. 

"  Nee  munera  desunt 

Et  Veneri,  et  Veneris  puero:  velut  ilia  sub  midis 
Orta  inter  superos  rebus  pulcherrima  praesit." 

JEgidius  Gallus,  15.  11. 

We  could  be  tempted  to  say  with  certainty,  that  it  would  be 
impossible  for  both  poets  to  have  had  in  view  any  other  paint- 
ing than  that  of  Raphael. 

One  reason  alone  remains  for  designating  the  painting  of  the 
Farnesina  ' '  Galatea,"  in  spite  of  all  this,  —  the  testimony  of 
Vasari,  who  gives  it  this  name.  We  should,  however,  I  think, 
be  justified  in  supposing  here  also  one  of  those  manifold  evi- 

*  It  is  to  be  found  in  "  Raccolta  di  Opuscoli  spoctanti  alle  belli  arti," 
Dal  Marchese  G.  G.  Haus,  Palermo,  1823,  and  is  now  in  the  Royal 
Library  at  Berlin.  I  have  not  seen  the  first  edition,  quoted  by  Rumohr. 


APPENDIX.  555 

/ 

dent  errors  of  which  Vasari  is  guilty,  if  the  one  fact  did  not 
speak  in  his  favor,  that  there  is  indeed  no  other  picture  of 
Raphael's  bearing  the  name  "Galatea."  This  alone  allows  us 
to  suppose,  that  Raphael,  in  his  letter  to  Castiglione,  alluded 
to  the  painting  in  the  Farnesina. 

If  the  picture  was  actually  called  in  Rome  "  La  Galatea,"  al- 
though it  represented  the  Venus,  whence  arose  the  strange 
change  of  name?  The  simplest  explanation  is  this,  —  that  the 
name  Galatea  was  given  to  one  of  the  other  female  figures  in 
the  grand  composition,  to  one  of  the  nymphs  forming  the  train 
of  Venus  ;  and  that  from  her  the  whole  picture  took  its  title,  as 
is  not  seldom  the  case  with  theatrical  pieces,  which  take  their 
title  from  the  name  of  some  subordinate  character. 

I  will  venture  to  conjecture  this.  In  front,  to  the  left  of  the 
picture,  Ave  see,  in  the  arms  of  a  Triton,  a  female  form,  who, 
larger  than  Venus  herself,  might  be,  almost  as  well  as  her,  the 
principal  character  in  the  whole  scene.  Apuleius  said,  "  Et 
Portunus  cajrulis  barbis  hispidus  et  gravis  piscoso  sinu  Sala- 
cia."  Raphael  has  evidently  understood  the  passage  as  if  it 
meant,  "  Portunus,  who  holds  the  strong  Salacia  in  his  fishy 
bosom,"  —  a  situation  which  we  find  accurately  reproduced  on 
the  painting.  May  not  the  unknown,  rarely  mentioned  nymph 
Salacia  (pronounced  Salacia  in  Rome)  have  become  Galatea? 
Once  more,  I  give  this  only  as  an  idea. 

LXXXVTII.—  PAGE  467. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  30,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

The  first  part  is  upon  money-matters.  "In  questa  sara  una 
che  va  a  Michele,  fa  di  dargncne,  io  non  gli  scrivo,  perche"  io 
non  sappi  che  egli  e  pazzo,  ma  perche4  io  ho  di  bisogno  d'  una 
certa  quantita  di  marmi,  e  non  so  come  mi  fare.  A  Carrara  non 
voglio  andare  io,  perche  non  posso,  e  non  posso  mandar  nes- 
suno  che  sia  el  bisogno.  Perche'  se  e'  non  son  pazzi,  e'  son 
traditori  e  tristi,  come  quel  ribaldo  di  Bernardino,  che  mi 
peggiord  cento  ducati,  in  quel  ch'  egli  stette  qua,  sanza  1 
essere  ito  cicalando  e  dolendosi  di  me  per  tutta  Roma,  che 
1'  ho  saputo  poi  che  io  son  qua.  Egli  e"  un  gran  ribaldo,  guar- 
datevi  da  lui  come  dal  fuoco,  e  fate  che  non  v'  entri  in  casa  per 
conto  nessuno.  Sono  uscito  di  proposito.  Non  m'  accade 
altro.  Dammi  la  lettera  a  Michele. 

"  MICHKIAGNIOLO,  in  Roma." 

On  the  address :  "  28th  July,  1515." 

A  number  of  short  letters  to  Buonarroto  belong  to  this 
time. 


556         LIFE  OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 


LXXXLX.— PAGE  469. 

Frediani  points  out  the  house  as  still  in  preservation,  in 
which  Michael  Angelo  lived,  in  Carrara.  It  is  said  to  bear  an 
inscription  to  this  effect.  I  have  not  been  there. 


XC.  — PAGE  471. 

Letters  to  Buonarroto,  No.  41,  in  the  possession  of  the  British 
Museum. 

.  .  .  "  e  monterd  subito  a  cavallo,  e  anderd  a  trovare  el 
cardinale  de'  Medici  e  '1  papa,  e  dir6  loro  el  fatto  mio,  e  qui 
lasciero  1'  impresa,  e  ritornero  a  Carrara,  che*  ne  sono  pregato 
come  si  prega  Cristo.  Questi  scarpellini  ch1  io  menai  di  costa 
non  si  intendono  niente  al  mondo  delle  cave,  n£  de'  marmi ; 
costommi  gia  pill  di  cento  trenta  ducati,  e  non  m'  hanno  ancora 
cavata  una  scaglia  di  marmo  che  buona  sia,  e  vann.o  ciurmando 
per  tutto  che  hanno  trovato  gia  gran  cose,  e  cercono  di  lavorare 
per  1'  opera  e  per  altri  co'  danan  ch'  egli  hanno  ricevuti  da  me  ; 
non  so  che  favore  s'  abbino,  ma  ogni  cosa  sapra  el  papa.  Io 
poi  che  mi  fermai  qui  ho  buttato  via  circa  trecento  ducati,  e 
non  veggo  ancora  nulla  che  sia  per  me.  Io  ho  tolto  a  risuscitar 
morti,  a  voler  domesticar  questi  monti  e  a  metter  1'  arte  in 
questo  paese,  che  quando  I1  arte  della  lana  mi  dessi  oltre  a1 
marmi  cento  ducati  el  mese,  e  che  io  facessi  quello  che  io  fo, 
non  farebbe  male,  non  che  non  mi  fare  el  partito.  Per6  racom- 
manda  mi  a  Jacopo  Salviati,  e  scrivi  per  el  mio  garzone  come 
la  cosa  &  ita,  accio  che  io  pigli  partito  subito,  perche'  mi  ci  con- 
sumo  a  star  qui  sospeso. 

"  MICHELAGXIOLO,  in  Pietrasanta." 

"  Le  barche  che  io  noleggiai  a  Pisa  non  sono  mai  arrivate ; 
credo  essere  stato  uccellato,  e  cosi  mi  vanno  tutte  le  cose.  Ho 
maledetto  mille  volte  el  di  e  1'  ora  che  io  mi  parti  da  Carrara, 
quest'  £  cagione  delle  mia  rovina,  ma  io  vi  ritorner6  presto. 
Oggi  £  peccato  a  far  bene." 

On  the  address :  "  Received  the  20th  April,  written  the  18th, 
1518." 

XCL— PAGE  480. 

The  knowledge  of  the  Latin  tongue  was  in  those  days  as 
customary  as  that  of  high  German  is  in  those  parts  of  Germany 
where  low  German  is  now  spoken.  Matters  of  business  were 
usually  arranged  in  Latin;  and  thus  many  of  the  contracts 
concluded  by  Michael  Angelo  are  drawn  up  in  Latin, 


APPENDIX.  557 

We  owe  Michael  Angelo's  opinion  to  the  notice  of  a  notary, 
who  made  the  following  observations  on  the  edge  of  a  contract 
concluded  in  Carrara:  "Ho  scritto  in  vulgare  questo  contratto 
perchd  lo  eccellente  uomo  maestro  Michelangiolo  non  pu6 
soffrire  giti  da  noi  d'  Italia  s'  habbia  a  scrivere  non  come  si 
parla  per  trattare  de'  cose  pubbliche."  —  Frediani,  p.  87. 

It  was  the  same  national  feeling  which  prompted  the  prohibi- 
tion in  the  senate  in  Venice  to  speak  any  thing  but  the  Vene- 
tian jargon. 

There  is  a  letter  of  the  29th  October,  1504,  published  by 
Gualandi,  which  Michael  Angelo  is  said  to  have  written  to 
Francesco  Fortunati,  an  ecclesiastic.  The  soft,  scholarlike  tone 
of  this  document  is  alone  sufficient  to  excite  a  doubt.  The 
request,  however,  for  money,  expressed  in  it  in  a  somewhat 
pitiable  manner,  makes  Michael  Angelo's  authorship  thoroughly 
impossible.  He  had  at  that  time  money  enough.  We  have 
only  to  compare  the  letter,  which  is  to  be  found  in  Guhl,  who 
considers  it  genuine,  with  the  position  which  Michael  Angelo 
occupied  in  Florence  in  the  autumn  of  1.504. 

Because  Francesco  Venturini,  Michael  Angelo's  school- 
master, went  subsequently  to  Perugia,  he  is  said  to  have 
instructed  Raphael  there  also.  This  is  one  of  the  many  con- 
jectures, out  of  which,  by  degrees,  a  tradition  claiming  consid- 
eration has  been  formed. 


XCIL— PAGE  483. 

Panni  degli  arazzi  is  translated  by  Guhl,  "  dies  Zeug  von 
Teppichen,"  —  this  tapestry  stuff!  and  he  sees  in  the  words 
an  intentional  derision  of  Raphael.  Stahr,  in  his  Notes  to 
Schauer's  Raphael- Album,  translates  it,  "  Tapeten-Lappen," 
tapestry-hangings ;  and  speaks  of  the  ' '  arrogant  contempt 
and  envy"  which  could  have  allowed  Sebastian  to  use  this 
word. 

Arazzi,  panni  cF 'Arazzi,  panni  di  Russia,  or  panni  alone,  is, 
however,  the  customary  expression  for  worked  tapestries,  with- 
out any  meaning  whatever.  In  Vasari  and  others  it  is  to  be 
met  with  constantly. 

XCIII.  — PAGE  499. 

Pitti  says  differently,  and  certainly  unjustly.  I  cannot  im- 
pute that  high  value  to  Pitti's  chronicle  which  is  usually 
assigned  to  it.  It  is  a  characterless,  often  designedly  false, 
representation  of  events,  seeking  to  obtain  the  appearance  of 
objective  impartiality 


558  LIFE  OP  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 


XCIV.  — PAGE  508. 

"In  einigen  Jahrhunderten  is  keine  scheme  Hand  in  Mar- 
mor  gearbeitet  und  im  ganzcn  Alterthume  nur  eine  einzige 
vollkommene  iibrig  und  als  Heiligthum  vielleicht  nur  vier 
Augcn  in  ihrem  Werthe  kennlich."  Winckeknann  an  Gcssner. 
25th  April,  1761. 

We  may  compare,  as  regards  modern  times,  the  hands  in 
Kaulbach's  works  with  those  of  Conelius's,  and  we  need  no 
further  criticism. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


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